


Can't Say

by LadyMonoceros



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Action, Dark Comedy, F/M, Factions, Gore, Horror, I will make you cry, I will make you laugh, Master/Slave, POV Second Person, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Slow Burn, Thriller, Torture, Violence, reader is a stubborn shit, you will hate me when this is over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 101,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMonoceros/pseuds/LadyMonoceros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After murdering the school bullies and your abusive parents, you escape into a nearby forest to be caught in the freezing rain. A certain pair of black dress shoes approach you just before you fall unconscious. You later wake to find out that you're inside the fabled Creepypasta mansion! Slenderman wants you as his Proxy, but you must complete his trials or face becoming the next victim of one of the residents.</p><p>During your time at the Creepypasta mansion, you begin to learn about a war unbeknownst to the human world. It isn't long before you get caught up in its terrors. You make allies and enemies. Feelings well up within you about a certain someone, but he never seems to feel the same way. </p><p>How will the war be won? Is there a happy ending to a world full of murder and horror?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [If Only](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/289803) by ShadowsByDay. 



Despite the summer's warm breaths of air, freezing rain chilled your skin, soaking your bones, as it trampled hard onto your body. You had hoped to take shelter under a large oak tree, expecting its full branches and leaves to block the rain. There was no where for you to go – not for a better hiding place, anyway. As your body shivered uncontrollably, you regrettably began to reminisce the reasons why you were in this predicament in the first place.  


You had killed them.  


All of them.  


The bullies, your parents; they were all dead by your hands.  


It was a well thought out plan for someone your age. A young teen in high school, making about average grades only so you could get out of school and get away from everyone. That didn't happen, though. You couldn't stand it anymore. Instead, you had snapped. You plotted out taking care of the bullies first.  


There wasn't much that you could remember – not in great detail – of how you killed those wretched girls that tortured you every school day. All you did know was that their throats had been slit over the bathroom sinks and toilets. Something about making a clean kill was to your liking. Right after slicing the final throat with a scalpel you had stolen from biology class, you darted out of the back door, racing home before anyone could notice your's and the girls' disappearance.  


As for your family, they were a little complicated to kill; however, you had watched their living patterns for several weeks, taking note of every detail. On that particular day, your lifegivers both had the day off of work. It was still ten in the morning, and they were sleeping in. All you could remember was the musically sweet gurgling of your mother and father drowning in their own blood. There was, however, a flash of some rage that you had. Perhaps something set you off – the memories of their abuse and ridicule? Before the bubbles of blood finished boiling, you had begun to repeatedly stab your parents in the chest with that same scalpel from school. Only after the strong scent of iron filled your lungs did you manage to stop yourself from continuing. Your parents had been long dead by then.  


You made your final escape into your back yard. A thick forest awaited you, branches outstretched as though welcoming your sinful self.  


It was too late to question morals. You had gotten your revenge. Now you had to live with it.  
Unfortunately, your planning of this particular day ended at the murder of your parents. You didn't think things through on where you would hide or how you would survive on your own. There was no doubt that the police would be searching for you within mere hours. The only thing you could do, for now, was make as much distance between you past and present as your legs could carry you.  


That's when the clouded sky broke out into a downpour of cold rain. You quickly found an enormous oak tree with thick cover, taking shelter underneath. Despite this, you were already soaked, and the tree wasn't much help.  


So, there you lay, curled against the base of the wooded giant and shivering like a madman. The dim sky reminded you that it was just barely noon. Night wouldn't fall for quite some time, and already you felt as though you were going to die. At least the rain was washing away the blood you had become stained with.  


A deep voice faintly kissed your ears. At least, it sounded like a voice. Maybe you were hallucinating and it was just thunder in the distance?  


“She lacks the purity I crave,” the deep, honey-lemon voice was clear now. It seemed as though the owner were talking to himself.  


A pair of pristine black dress shoes calmly stepped into your view. From what little you could see, there seemed to be equally as black slacks perfectly hanging above the footwear. Your vision blurred, then darkness overwhelmed you.

 

You awoke to that dreadful ringing in your ears. It was the only sound in the room, save for your breathing. This room, though, was most unfamiliar. The luscious bed covers and sheets were what you noticed first. They were a dark burgundy, barely visible in the dimness of the room's light. All that illuminated the area was a gray aura beaming through the silk window curtains. It seemed to be daylight, but you weren't sure how long you had been unconscious.  


The next thing that caught your attention was the fact that you had new clothes on. Nothing special. Just a set of long-sleeved pajamas and a matching pair of paints. 

They weren't even your favorite color.  


Then it hit you: someone dressed you. Someone saw you naked!  


Your heart lept into your throat, full of dread and panic. Reminding yourself that you were in a stranger's home, you held down the urge to scream. The best thing to do was keep quiet and sneak out as soon as possible.  


So you did – or tried to.  


The window wouldn't budge. It looked pretty old and worn, so it was probably jammed. The last thing you needed to do was break the window open. That would make too much noise. Besides, from the view outside of the window, you were on the second floor of whatever sort of building you were in.  


A vast expanse of towering dark trees were spread as far as the window would allow you to see. Sprouting from the limbs of these dark trees were vibrant orange and yellow leaves. The contrast between the bark and vegetation was surprisingly striking. Never had you seen these sorts of trees before. Where exactly were you?  


Shrugging off your wonderment, you decided to act on the now and figure out the later when it became a now. It made sense in your head, anyway.  


Tip-toeing across the room and to the modestly decorated wooden door, you placed a hand ever so gently on its cold bronze knob. The faintest of sounds involving metal against metal irked you. It didn't matter that you were probably the only one who could hear it. The fact that you were making any noise at all was bad enough. If only you could stop breathing and still function. Luckily for you, the door pulled open without a peep. In fact, it was eerie how silent it was, almost as though it didn't even exist.  


The dark hallway didn't bode well for your plan of escape. The further down its length you looked, the darker it became. How long was that hallway? It was then that your eyes took in the vague shapes of other doors and doorways; all evenly separated as they lined the hall walls. They didn't matter to you, though. You needed a staircase or elevator, depending on what type of building you were in. So far, it seemed like a large house. A mansion? It was decorated rather royally.  


Shaking your thoughts aside, you tried to focus on task. One at a time, you inched your way down the wooden floor of the hallway. It never creaked. It never groaned. The ringing in your ears continued to sing to you.  


It was only a few feet down the length of the corridor that you began to hear a sort of rushed thumping grow closer to you. It sounded distant at first, sort of below you. Someone was coming up the stairs! You still didn't quite know where they were.  


In a fit of panic, you dashed into the first door nearest to you, swinging it open and nearly slamming it closed, but you caught yourself. Once again, it was dark. Darker than the hallway. You didn't mind, though. You were too busy listening for the footsteps that padded toward you, then past you. A nearby door clicked. You were safe.  


Or not.  


Raspy gasps of breaths sounded somewhere behind you. Someone was in the room with you. Your heart dropped. You could feel your skin grow pale as your blood began to drain to who knows where. Then, the voice followed with the gasps of air.  


“Why,” a weak male voice brushed your ears as he gasped between every few words, “must you guys play hide-and-seek in my room?”  


Should you speak up? Should you just walk out? And what sort of place was this where strangers who kidnapped you are playing hide-and-seek of all things? Now you were ultimately puzzled.  


“Who is it?” The mysterious male's voice rasped again.  


Considering how he sounded sick or injured, you didn't think that this guy was one of your kidnappers. Maybe he was a victim, too. Thus, it wouldn't hurt to speak up. Heck, he might even know what this place is.  


You parted your lips, ready to answer your possible new friend. Taking in a quick breath of strangely delicious air, you considered what you could possibly say. “Hi, my name is ____?” No, that's too informative. You wanted to remain cautious. What if he was a cop? “I was kidnapped?” There was still the chance that he was one of your kidnappers. “Tell me what's going on first?” Yeah, that's good. Demanding and stern. You didn't want to seem weak in front of a supposed threat. So, you manged to get out the first two words of your selected sentence, but then the door behind you swung open. You were easily knocked to the floor, managing to catch yourself on your hands and knees. Others noises of someone grunting and things clinking violently reached your ears.  


The light flicked on, illuminating the whole room quite well. You were hardly able to take in your new surroundings before a creepily playful voice sounded behind you.,“My, my. It seems our new piece of candy has woken up.” You slowly turned your head to peek over your shoulder, partially not wanting to see who this person was. He had just referred to you as a “piece of candy”, which could only mean one thing: he was a rapist.  


At the very moment you laid eyes on the supposed rapist, you found yourself staring at a black and white clown of sorts. His long cone-shaped nose and feathered shoulders were the oddest parts of him. Horizontal stripes littered his long sleeves and leggings. Black overalls clasped onto the midsection of him. His attire certainly confirmed the worst in your fears. This man looked to be someone who had been put in jail, which meant that he did something pretty bad, which meant that he probably raped someone!  


In a spastic jolt of realization, you covered your very vulnerable posterior with your hands and spun around on your knees. “Please don't rape me!” The words escaped your lips before you could think over how futile they would be against a dangerous person such as that.  


“Rape you?” The clown arched a brow at you, almost as though he had never heard of the word before.  


A familiar raspy voice sounded behind you, “She doesn't want to play, Jack.”  


With a shrug, this “Jack” smirked and stepped around you toward the other man's bedside. You cautiously followed Jack with your eyes, still covering your butt. The man he approached looked normal enough. Normal skin, normal dark hair, a normal face. The only thing odd about him were the dark circles under his eyes. He must be in bad shape.  


You climb to your feet and took the liberty of inspecting what was going on at the bed. Jack had carried in a silver tray of several different dishes. One involved steaming soup, another a simple glass of water, and a plate of toast. In one corner of the tray, there were a handful of prescription medicine bottles. You deduced that this still unnamed man was very ill.  


Never mind that, though. You were supposed to be escaping this place. Yet, the fact that no one was panicking on your ability to move freely around this mysterious building puzzled you. Maybe you didn't need to escape just yet. The first couple of words, you stuttered, still not sure if you could speak freely. May as well try, though, “Where am I?” This was not as demanding and powerful as you had originally planned. Stupid!  


Jack carefully placed the silver tray and its contents over the other man's lap. By now, the sick man had sat up, though still looking fragile. Jack glanced at you, “Why, you're in the great Slenderman's mansion, tootsie-pop.”  


You flinched at Jack's utterance of your new nickname. It was better than what the bullies would call you, but still.  


Then it struck you. “Slenderman,” you mumbled, concerning yourself over how familiar that name sounded. Even Jack's appearance seemed recognizable, after further thought.  


“I was told that there was a new Proxy candidate,” Jack continued on.  


“Proxy,” you echoed. Thoughts and memories swirled in your head as you tried to search for why these things sounded so darn familiar. And then it call came flooding back. The Proxies, the Slenderman, Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer, Sally, and so many more Creepypastas! “Oh, my friggin'-”  


A long, black finger was placed over your lips to stop your outburst. Jack cooed, “Now, now. Let's keep things down in Masky's room. He needs to rest.”  


Your eyes nearly popped out of you head as your conclusions were further proven correct. Excitement, panic, fear, delight; all these emotions wanted to burst out of you at once. You were actually in the Creepypasta mansion! The one that you had read stories about on the internet! The very building that everyone thought of as just a load of fairy tales! What's even better is that you were a candidate for becoming a Proxy!  


Okay, okay. Keep calm. Don't fan-girl around the Creepypastas. They might kick you out before you get a chance to prove yourself.  


After catching your breath and calming your blood, you asked Jack if it was okay for you to wander the mansion. To your surprise, Jack replied, “Go right ahead, peppermint.” The nickname wasn't so much of a surprise, though.  


Struggling to suppress your excitement, you lightly bounced out of Masky's bedroom and strolled further down the hall toward the stairway that you had heard footsteps from earlier. The hall light was on now, most likely Jack's doing. The dark wooden walls were decorated with exquisite antique paintings and tapestries. No doubt, this was Slenderman's collection of historical items over the many millennia he's lived through. You bit your lip, still fighting your urges to giggle madly, and descended the grand staircase. It dark gray marbled steps were beautifully carved, and the bronze hand railings gave a wonderful accent against the otherwise gloomy colors within the mansion.  


The very moment your foot reached the bottom of the staircase, a powerfully deep voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. Your ears filled with his all too soothing sounds. “____,” he called your name. For the first time, you actually enjoyed hearing it.  


You glanced around the large tiled lobby that was lit up by a grand chandelier above you. Eventually, your eyes landed on a tall, pale figure. His sharp suit clashed with the utterly white skin of this faceless man. You know exactly who he was.  


“Slenderman,” the name slipped off your tongue without a thought.  


You would soon regret your mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to meet more of the residents of the mansion, along with how not-so-kind they really are.

You had little time to react to the several jet black tendrils that enveloped around your body. Heck, you barely had time to let out a yelp before one of the dark vines squeezed across your mouth, nearly gagging you. These appendages of Slenderman's were not gentle. They threatened to kill you, suffocate you. Another slithered its way around your neck, tightening just enough to effect the flow of blood in your arteries. Shadows of very apparent, scowling eyebrows wrinkled the otherwise smooth face of the Slenderman. He looked furious as he pulled you closer to him, holding you in mid air just below his would-be eye level. Static filled your head. You began to feel a nauseous pang in your stomach. Your vision blurred, but you could easily see your captor's lacking face.

“From now on,” Slenderman's deep voice sounded over the static in your head, “you will refer to me as 'Master' or 'Sir'. Fail to comply, and I will dispose of you.” Despite his lack of eyes, you felt the heavy glare of your new “Master” weighing down on you.

Straining from the tendrils that fiercely gripped your head and neck, you managed to nod your head with little hesitation. This Slenderman was not the one you had read about. He was not the caring leader you had read in fanfictions so long ago. This creature was much more dangerous, even to a Proxy candidate.

When you thought you could bear the squeezing of Slenderman's tendril any longer, he released you. He wasn't so kind as to set you down, but rather dropped you from where you were being held. Surely you fell a foot or two. One of your ankles didn't handle the fall well, and it twisted just enough to send you collapsing on your aft. This could also be from the lack of air you had gotten. Your form curled on the marbled floor, cold and solid. You gasped for air, trying to catch your breath. Even then, you could feel your Master's stern gaze falling on you.

With the feeling that he wanted you to prove yourself, you forced yourself to stand. If you wanted to be a Proxy, then you had to be tough – especially for this less-than-fatherly Operator. Still gasping for air, you hung your head, not even sure if you should make some sort of eye contact. What should you say? Should you even reply? You decided to take that risk. “Yes, Sir,” was all you said.

Your mind quickly reminded you of how you had seen Masky in his condition earlier. Maybe he slipped up and insulted Slenderman? If that was the state Proxies would be left in, you certainly didn't want to make that mistake. So far, the lack of discomfort was a welcoming sign to you. It meant that Slenderman wasn't angry with you for speaking up.

“____,” your Master accosted you, dragging you out of your fearful thoughts. Craning your head up to meet his invisible gaze, you waited for Slenderman to continue. He said, “You will have one week from tomorrow morning to prove your worthiness to become my Proxy. I suggest you give it your all, or face a most painful ended to your miserable life.”

That wasn't very nice. Sure, you were bullied and abused, but to call your life “miserable” was incredibly rude. Not that you could reply with a riposte. That would surely get you killed before you even started. Which brought you back to your swirling questions about Masky. 

“Master,” you stuttered, afraid to speak out of turn.

“Yes?” Slenderman replied, almost as though he expected you to bring something up.

Seeing your opportunity to continue speaking freely, you asked, “What happened to Masky? Will he recover?”

Though it wasn't audible, you felt a sigh escape Slenderman's wake. He seemed reluctant to do so, but he answered, “Masky has been severely injured by an old enemy of mine. Or rather, by one of his own minions. I suggest you take in what you see with a grain of salt, for you will soon be a part of this war. Most likely, you will also end up in a similar condition to Masky's at some point or other.”

“Oh...” your eyes wavered to the marbled floor. The thought of yourself in Masky's place felt nerve-wracking. But, if the Proxy has lasted this long, then you should, too. That is, if you can even prove your worth first.

A rumbling in your stomach snapped you out of your concerning thoughts. It was then that you noticed the lack of static in your head and how you didn't feel sick anymore. Again, you felt the fear of speaking out of turn. It seemed that Slenderman already had you well trained as a reserved Proxy.

You were going to ask your Master if you could get something to eat, and even where the kitchen was, but he responded to your rumbling stomach with a long, white, index finger pointing behind you. Spinning on your heel to face Slenderman's silent directions, you came to face a long hallway. It looked quite familiar to the one you had ventured along upstairs, yet this one had Gothic structured windows lining one of the walls. This all, like the first time you exited your room, was long and dark. At least you knew there were light switches somewhere, so you planned to search for them during your travels throughout the mansion.

Assuming that you should make your way down this hall and the kitchen will be within immediate view, you kindly thanked your Master, then began your adventure.

First off, you couldn't find the light switch – anywhere. It was a complete mystery, after walking twenty or so feet down the corridor, as to how the lights were to come on. Lucky for you, the windows were sending through enough light for you to make out where you were going. Doubly as lucky, it was daytime. Not so lucky, though, you crossed paths with someone you really didn't want to meet alone.

The first thing that gave you a hint that someone was approaching you was the strong scent of cigarette smoke. The second thing was the trickling of water sloshing against glass. By this time, a white figure melded into your vision from far down the hall. You stopped, dreading who it might be. An orange glow flew up to the figure's upper regions, then began to brighten for a second or two. It then lowered back to its owner's side, swinging back and forth. Again, the sloshing of some liquid rang faintly in your ears. Then, as the figured passed a window, you saw him.

Jeff the Killer.

He looked to be in about his late twenties. Long, black hair; wiry and frizzed. The dark lines of old scars curved from the edges of his lips, forming an excessive permanent smile. His not-so-white hoody was stained with old and new blood stains. You guessed that he washed it every so often. His dark eyes caught your attention, though, freezing you in your tracks. Fear overcame you. If Jeff was anything like Slenderman had acted, you were in for a terrible trip to the kitchen.

There was no turning back, though; no escape. Jeff had already seen you staring at him. He didn't look amused. “What?” Jeff spat at you, then began to cough and hack.

“Nothing,” you forced out of your mouth. Something told you that keeping quiet was the worst idea you could possibly have. So, you tried to hold a conversation with the infamous killer. “I was just going to the kitchen. Do you know where it is?” Stupid! Of course he does!

Once Jeff finished his coughing fit, he wiped his mouth with his already stained sleeve and nodded his head over his shoulder. “End of the hall. On your left.” He paused, tilting his head as he began to stare at you curiously. “Hey,” he blurted.

“Umm,” you hesitated, “Hi.” 

“I just realized that you're a girl.” Jeff began to approach you, quickly closing the distance between you two. He shoved his cigarette into his mouth and used his now free hand to grip your chin quite roughly. “Pretty thing. But I could make you beautiful,” he emphasized his last word quite well. It sounded practiced.

At first, you weren't sure what Jeff had meant, but your memories of all the Creepypastas were still coming back to you. It did soon snap that Jeff was offering to carve a smile into your face. “No! No, thank you!” You denied his offer as kindly as you could, but that didn't seem good enough. Your mind raced for a good reason. “Slender- I mean, Master probably wouldn't want me to do that,” you nearly slipped up on giving the correct respects to Slenderman. Good save, though.

“What a shame,” Jeffery Blalock mumbled before releasing your aching chin. He had gripped it pretty tight. No one seemed very gentle in this mansion. Well, except for Laughing Jack. So far, he was the nicest.

You watched as Jeff puffed on his cigarette and strolled toward the mansion lobby and out of your sight. A sigh of relief escaped you. That could have gone worse, and you were thankful that it hadn't.

Now, though, it was time to satisfy your complaining stomach. It continued to rumble and gargle with pathetic sounds. So, you continued your way down the hall as you were told to do. When you reached the end of the hallway, all you could see was an incredibly dark area to your left. You assumed that this was the kitchen, but how on earth would you find anything without a darn light switch?

Well, there were other ways to turn on lights, thanks to technology. So, you began going through every idea that hit your mind. Clapping, snapping, yelling, stomping, making some sort of noise. You even attempted to wave, but to no avail.

“Will it,” a voice startled you. The voice sounded new, and slightly muffled. “But you have to be an official Proxy to do that.” You turned to find a hooded figure standing next to you. From the limited light of the windows, you could see that the hoody was a yellow tint of some sort. His face was too full of shadows to see what he looked like.

Saying nothing more, the apparent Proxy stepped past you. Lo! And Behold! The kitchen was then lit up in a brilliance of crisp light. You stared into a large, extremely roomy kitchen styled something similar to a country home. Red bricks decorated the walls while tan marble flooring welcomed you onto its surface. A large steel refrigerator sat against a wall on one side, while a barrage of tan wooden cabinets lined the other. A magnificent stove with several variously sized burners sat against the wall straight across from you. The equally as splendid metal sink wasn't far away from the cooking top. The kitchen had everything you could need for having a holiday family meal and still not run out of room!

Then, you realized who was talking to you just earlier. This was Hoodie. His now much clearer appearance clicked your mind into gear. He would be one of your high-ranked teammates later on. You should make good terms with him.

You quickly stepped into the kitchen, hoping to make conversation with Hoodie. He, on the other hand, seemed to ignore you as he opened the fridge and dug around. You asked what there was to eat, but he only shrugged and responded with, “Whatever you fix.”

“You guys don't cook large meals for each other?” Your data on the Creepypasta mansion that you had gathered from fan-fictions and the internet was quickly doing down the drain as this day went on.

“No?” Hoodie looked over his shoulder, confusion in his voice. You couldn't quite tell, thanks to the dark mask, but surely he was quirking a brow at you apparently stupid question.

With disappointment, you accepted this new fact and began to explore the cabinets for a loaf of bread. Maybe you could make a sandwich of sorts. Meanwhile, Hoodie gathered up a can of beer and some ham slice that he snatched out of a plastic bowl. As grand as this kitchen was, you could help but think that maybe Hoodie was lying to you. The kitchen was even excessively clean, as though it had been used plenty of times before. Maybe you could cook something up for everyone?

Sneaking a glance at the opened fridge, you noticed how empty it looked. Whipping up a large meal sounded like a great thing to do, but you needed ingredients.

You wondered if Slenderman would let you go shopping for the mansion.

“No,” the increasingly familiar voice boomed in your head, rather than around you like last time. Slenderman had refused your request to go grocery shopping for the mansion. His reasons were that you were not yet a Proxy, and thus he couldn't trust you on your own.

Not wanting to be strangled again, you didn't bother arguing with your possible new master. Instead, you decided to explore the mansion. There were most likely other Creepypastas lazing around. You wondered how many others you would meet during your time here. With this thought in mind, you began trying to recall all the Creepypastas you had read about back in the day. It hadn't been more than a year since you left the fandom, but you had already forgotten so much. The fact that you were here, now with the real deals, made you wish you hadn't given up on the Creepypasta era.

By the time you exited your pondering, you discovered that your autopilot self had brought you back down the hallway and into the lobby. There was a door across the room, exactly where your master had stood earlier. There was a light on. A little dim, but still clear. Brighter than that, though, was the flickering of a television screen from behind the doorway. Your curiosity grew, wondering who you would meet this time. Hoodie had ignored you in the kitchen, so he wasn't any use, for the time being. 

Shoving your hands into your pants pocket, you half-strolled and half-tip-toed across the lobby. It was a bit of a silly walk, but you couldn't help yourself. Even after what had happened with Slenderman and Jeff, your excitement for being in the Creepypasta mansion had you feeling at least a little giddy by this point. Something deep down inside you poked a reminder that your joy would eventually wear out. You were still human, after all. You were a possible target for everyone in the house. Most likely, the only reason you hadn't been killed yet, is because Slenderman wanted you as a Proxy.

You reached the doorway, taking in the atmosphere of a fanciful living room. There were a couple of bookshelves on the wall to your left, along with a reading area – lamp and all. Across from you was a circle of recliners and loveseats, all surrounding a round wooden coffee table. To your right, was a large, antique couch facing a moderately sized flat-screen television that hung on the wall. On the utterly bright screen was the familiar green-clad character from the Nintendo 64 days – Link. He was running around a dark and gloomy looking town, not really accomplishing anything. You glanced to the couch to see who was playing the game, only to see a similar green cap poking from beyond the furniture's back. 

This guy seemed like he would be at least tolerant of you. Maybe you two could get along after a little chat. So, you stepped over to one side of the couch and cleared your throat in an effort to break the silence between the two of you. The television screen flashed to a save menu. All of the files available were titled “BEN”. Then you remembered who this guy was.

“You're the new recruit?” Ben Drowned eyed you. His red irises encircled in endless black had a depth you could only describe as the sensation of drowning in. The stains of blood trickled down his cheeks as tears. Ben only started at you coldly, waiting for an answer.

The sight of the real-life Ben had shaken you up a little. You stammered over your words, “I was just, uh,” you realized what he had asked you. “Oh, yeah. I guess I am.”

With a snort, Ben turned his had back to the game and continued on with his business.

“Okay,” you contorted your mouth in frustration. It seemed that Ben wasn't going to be as great of a person as you thought. Still, you decided to try a little harder, and sat down on the end of the couch, giving Ben his space. He only glanced at you for a second. “What game are you playing?” You asked, mostly just trying to get Ben to talk. You knew it was a Legend of Zelda game, but you actually were sure which one.

“Majora's Mask,” Ben grumbled to you. His eyes didn't leave the screen this time. He seemed almost absorbed in the game; a trance of sorts. 

“Oh, yeah?” You watched the Link look-alike. Creepier than himself was the haunting gaze that he cast upon the game. It was as though a part of him was the game, itself. “You play it a lot?”

“This is the only game I play.”

“Darn,” you made yourself sound disappointed. In truth, you partially were. “This isn't a multiplayer game, either. I was hoping to play a game with you.” You started at Ben, waiting for him to answer with a proposal of trying out a game. 

The save menu opened up again. Ben went through all the motions to save his current file, then shoved the controller in your direction. Something wasn't right about him, though. There was a devious curl in his lips now. He said coyly, “You wanna play?”

Afraid to infuriate him, you complied and grabbed the controller. Carefully, your fingers tapped the buttons in an effort to remind yourself what they all did. You managed to exit from the save menu, finding Link standing in the middle of the game's town.

A flash of light from your left caught you off guard. Electrical surges whizzed past your ears. When you glanced to see if Ben was okay, you discovered that he was no longer sitting on the couch with you. He was, in fact, gone. Before you could call out to him, Ben's voice came through the television speakers, “Let's play.”

You didn't feel like playing anymore. Something about the way he said it sounded much too crooked. Still, you didn't want to anger him. You pushed the analog stick to begin directing Link to explore the town. Link did as you pleased, though you soon found that there was little to do. There weren't even any NPCs to talk to. The incredibly strange background music was dizzying; it sounded like a sweet song being played backwards. 

After some time, you found the Happy Mask Salesmen. His repeated chuckling quickly irked your nerves. You tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't say a word. This game seemed rather off; not like the video games you were used to. Still, you returned to wandering the town, searching ever inch. 

Soon, you noticed a humanoid figure standing on top of the Clock Tower. With closer inspection, you found that it was some masked character. Skull Kid, you think. You searched through your various items and decided to fire arrows, since there was no other way to reach the character. Each arrow made contact with Skull Kid, and he went reeling back to assure you of it. Then, he slowly straightened himself back into his neutral stance, staring at you.

“That won't do you any good here,” a new voice taunted you from the game. Surely it came from Skull Kid. 

You didn't have time to figure it out, though. Something else was happening. Link was being lifted up by an unknown force, tilting to lay on his back. Link's arms and legs went swinging as he struggled to get out of the mysterious grip. You watched in horror as Link's body burst into flames, his screams blaring through the television speakers. The crackling and burning of Link's flames seemed so real. You could hear them as though they were right on you. No, they were on you! You were on fire, too!

Tossing the controller aside, you began screaming as the sensation of your skin melting off your very bones filled your nervous system. You could see the flames flickering right in front of your eyes. You looked down at your hands, only to confirm your fears. In a desperate attempt to put out the fire, you dropped to the floor and began rolling around, squirming and writhing. Your screams matched the volumes of Link's. Footsteps could be heard from the room's entrance.

“Put her out, Ben,” Slenderman's voice boomed his command.

Someone else ran over to you. “Calm down, ____!” He gripped your shoulders and tried to hold you down. “It's not real!” You caught a glimpse of orange circles as your vision began to blur, the sensation of fire had gone away as quickly as it came. Your vision darkened until you fell unconscious.

It wasn't long before you awoke with an unfamiliar face staring down at you. Someone had moved you to lay on the couch. Your skin wasn't on fire anymore, and there seemed to be no resulting pain from the situation beforehand. “What happened?” You had to ask. You knew you were on fire just a while ago.

The young man staring at you frowned a bit. He glanced up to someone who was behind your view, “Ben likes to set people on f-fire.” This new person stuttered a little. He also seemed to have a regular twitch with his body. “It wasn't real fire, though,” the orange-goggled man patted your shoulder, “he just m-makes you think it is.”

“Come on, Toby,” Ben's voice sighed behind you, “you always ruin my fun.” 

“That's because y-you did it to me!” The man named Toby stood up in his defense. “I didn't know it w-was fake for months!”

“Both of you, silence yourselves!” Slenderman boomed from behind the couch. You sat up to take a look. Your master somehow eyed you, and you knew it. He said, “Consider that your first test, ____. I suggest you become familiar and tolerant of such pain if you want to survive as my Proxy.”

You took a huge gulp of anxiety as you nodded to Slenderman. You weren't sure why you agreed to what he said. That pain was the worst you had ever experienced, and it would be a regular thing? How did you get yourself into this mess?

With a regretful groan, you sank into the antique couch and hugged your knees. “How can anyone be okay with all that pain?”

Toby adjusted himself to sit right next to you. Ben did the same. All three of you stared at the “Game Over” screen on the television. Toby answered your rhetorical question, “I actually can't feel physical pain.” Your eyebrow quirked at Toby, seeing the plot-hole in what he had said to Ben earlier. He noticed this and waved you off, saying, “Ben showed me what pain was like, though. His fire messes with your mind.”

A proud chuckling sounded from Ben. “It's one of my specialties. I love to get inside people's heads; not literally, of course.”

“I see...” You grasped this possibility, finding that Ben was much scarier than you had anticipated.

A black gloved hand fell in front of you, extended and open. Following the connecting arm, you realized that it was Toby smirking down at you. “So, you're the new candidate, huh?”

“Yeah,” you hesitantly took Toby's hand and shook it.

After releasing each others grip, Toby continued, “Not at lot of them m-make it through the tests, but it's for a good reason.”

“What reason is that?” You eyed Toby curiously.

Toby remained silent. He looked past you to make eye contact with Ben. Neither exchanged words, but Toby decided to answer you, “You'll find out if you become an official Proxy.”

It only occurred to you now, but there was always a good chance that you wouldn't pass these unknown tests. If that were to happen, what would become of you? Would Slenderman just release you back into the human world as though nothing had happened? Then what? You expressed these questions to Toby, only to receive an answer you didn't want to hear.

“You get to be prey for one of the Creepypastas in the mansion.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find out more of Masky's condition. Soon after, your Proxy tests begin, and it doesn't start off very kindly.

The weight of Toby's words hung heavy in your chest. To be honest, you had that tiny feeling that death would be your reward if you were to fail Slenderman's Proxy tests. Most of you had hoped that things would start to lighten up and everyone would turn in to the characters you had read about so long ago. Reality was sinking in fast. These Creepypastas were the real thing. They were scary, bloodthirsty people – creatures – who enjoyed watching humans suffer. They didn't mind using brutality to get their way, and you were no exception – save for the limits that Slenderman would allow.  


You decided to go back to your room. You wanted to hide away from everyone before you got into more trouble. Being theoretically burned alive was not something you wanted to experience again. Who knows what else you would have to deal with? For now, this was enough of an introduction to the rest of your life. 

Such a taste was bitter and mysterious. You had to get your thoughts together for a while.  


Tomorrow would be the true beginning of your new life, though. Tomorrow, the real pain would start.  


You managed to you reach your bedroom door without meeting another Creepypasta or Proxy on the way. The serenity of not having to worry was quite pleasant. As you passed Masky's room, you did hear the steady beeping of his heart monitor. Temptation filled you. Curiosity craved the knowledge of what happened to him. You didn't particularly care about him, but you wanted to know exactly what he had gone through. He was one of Slenderman's Proxies, therefore, you would experience similar things to Masky's current pain.  


Clenching the bronze doorknob that held you between the hallway and your haven of a bedroom, you considered the risks of visiting Masky. Would someone enter after you did? Would they try to hurt you? Was someone else already in there? Your mind wandered to your first encounter with Masky and Laughing Jack. They seemed pretty calm and collected. Jack was more concerned with Masky's health than his "playtime" with you. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to go there for just a few minutes.  


An eery silence feel on your ears, much similar to when you first left your bedroom. The faint ringing was stressing, making you think that you were making much more noise than you really were. You laid a hand over the doorknob that led to Masky's room, twisted it, and gently pushed the door open.  


It was dark again. Tiny lights from the machines were all that illuminated from the darkness. A fleeting thought slipped across your mind, questioning how exactly the Creepypastas had acquired all of this medical equipment. Most likely stolen, of course. Your focus returned to the current situation, and you closed the door behind you. Your other hand reached around on the wall next to you, searching for the light switch.  


"Don't turn on the light," a weak voice forced itself from its source. You assumed it was Masky, accepting his command.  


"What," you paused, feeling a little bad that you may have woken the Proxy, "What happened to you?" Images of the once illuminated room flashed through you mind as you tried to remember where things were and weren't. You shuffled your feet across the floor, holding out your hands to prevent you from colliding with the bed or a machine.  


A wheezing inhale of Masky's lungs squeezed at your chest. Regret began to fill you for making the poor man talk in such a state. Masky replied anyway, "I made mistakes."  


Part of you wanted to question further, and the rest of you wanted to just let Masky rest. You bit your lip, trying to hold back your thoughts so they wouldn't escape your mouth. You reached the side of Masky's bed, only just bumping into it to rock it slightly. "S-sorry," you quickly apologized with a cringe. One thought broke its way out of you, "Are you going to live?" Immediately, you winced at your yourself for doing exactly what you were trying not to.  


Several long seconds crept by with only the sounds of Masky's wheezing and the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. A sense of doubt filled the air, and you could feel it easily. Eventually, Masky did answer you, "I've been through worse."  


"You can't be serious," you shook with fear and pity. Was this what you would go through as a Proxy? And how could Masky have gone through worse, only to survive? He sounded like death!   


"Master emits an aura," Masky's weak voice began to explain was he wheezed between every few words, "that hastens his Proxie's healing rates." A deep, strained wheeze passed through Masky's wind pipes. Talking seemed to be laboring him.  


You reached around the bedside, searching for a familiar mass of flesh to connect with your fingers. Eventually, you did find Masky's hand, and you intertwined your fingers with his. It wasn't out of love, nor was it out of friendship; you simply felt so much pity for someone who was once human like you. For this person - for all of the Proxies - to go through this on a, most likely, regular basis, you feared your own fate. You feared their fates. Slenderman was sending them out on missions that were near suicidal.  


"It's not Master's fault," Masky uttered as though he were reading your mind. "I once thought the same thing when I first met Hoodie." He inhaled a few times, trying to catch his breath. A gentle squeeze of your hand hinted to you that he was in pain while trying to breathe. Masky continued talking anyway, "When a Proxy gets hurt, its our own fault. You'll learn why over time." Once again, Masky wheezed in a breath of air, only this time forcing out a congested coughing fit. He gripped your hand tight, crunching your knuckles under his own pressure. Between a few coughs, Masky yelled out in agony, then returned to his fit of hacking. The heart monitor began to race, your own heart matched with it, surely.  


Just as you were turning to go get someone, the door opened. A new face switched on the lights, showing off his blue mask that seemed to have a dark ooze dripping down its cheeks. "Get out of here," the blue one exclaimed. He rushed to Masky's side, shoving you away. You stumbled back, only to fall on your aft as you watched the new Creepypasta snatch up a small object from the bedside table and shove it over Masky's mouth. You heard something like compressed air release. Masky soon relaxed into his pillow.  


"One more," the new man said. You heard the compressed air hiss again. Masky inhaled a deep breath, sounding much less congested than earlier.  


"Thanks, Jack," Masky exhaled his breath in a conservative manner, as though trying to hold in whatever he had just inhaled from the object in the other's hand.  


"Quit talking," the apparent 'Jack' commanded. "You know you shouldn't be talking for a few days." He turned to look at you, setting the object that you then recognized as an inhaler back on the table. "You! I told you to get out! You were making him talk, weren't you?"  


You began to stammer out senseless words, not sure what this Creepypasta would do to you. Blood seemed to escape you, your fingertips tingling and your tongue feeling dry. You could only observe as Jack stomped over to you and lifted you up by the collar of your shirt. His drug you out of the room, switching off the light, and nearly slamming the door behind himself. Gripping his strong arm, you tried to get stable on your feet, but all they did was drag along the floor. Jack continued down the hall, bringing you God knows where.  


"You new kids are nothing but trouble. Never able to mind your own business," Jack lectured you, easily carrying you around. "Stay away from Masky. He shouldn't be talking in his condition. That should have been obvious to you!"  


"That's enough, Eyeless Jack," a familiar voice came from further down the hall. From your previous experiences, you would be dead scared to hear it, but right now, you were more than grateful. "Put her down."  


Eyeless Jack complied with Slenderman's order. He simply released his grip on your shirt and allowed you to stumble around as you caught your balance. "Keep her out of Masky's room." Jack pointed at you accusingly. How could this guy talk to Slenderman that way? Was he not a Proxy?  


With only a nod, Slenderman dismissed Eyeless Jack from the scene. The blue-masked man stormed down the stair case, muttering obscenities to himself. Slenderman held his attention on you. Your eyes studied anything but your future Master's form. It was quiet for a moment as your searched for something to say, maybe even waiting for Slenderman to say something.  


You ended up being the first to speak, "I just wanted to see how bad it was to be a Proxy." You flinched, realizing how dumb your reasoning was.  


"Well, now you know. I suggest you refrain from conversing with Masky until his has healed further," Slenderman replied.  


Nodding frantically, you accepted the tall being's words, relieved that he wasn't going to strangle you again. "I'm just going back to my room now," you gestured behind you. "I promise I'm not going back to Masky's room."  


A single nod was all you needed to turn tail and run to your room. You shoved the door open, then clicked it behind you, pressing your back against its solid form. A few relaxing breaths rushed in and out of your lungs. This was not what you were hoping to happen, but it did turn out better than it could have. Whatever Eyeless Jack was going to do to you, it was stopped by Slenderman, and you silently thanked him for that.  


At this point, you just wanted to relax in your room. No more snooping around and getting curious. You would save that for tomorrow, most likely. So, you crawled into your bed, gazing at the white ceiling that loomed over you, and putting together the events of the day. To be honest, not much happened, but it seemed like quite a bit. Your eyelids felt incredibly heavy almost as soon as you hit the bed. Maybe you were still worn out from the day before? Either way, whilst lost in your thoughts of all that had happened so far, your mind decided to shut down. Everything went black.  


You were abruptly jerked out of your slumber by an echoing crash throughout the mansion. Though it had been muffled by the walls and bedroom door, you were easily brought back to consciousness. A pair of familiar voices screeched in the air, bickering at each other. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you climbed out of bed to inspect the situation. For whatever reason, you didn't think about the risks you were taking, concerning your safety from murderous psychopaths.  


Stumbling down the staircase and following the continuous noises of yelling and thing breaking, you approached the archway to the living room. There, you took in the horrendous sight of the television sparking and smoking, a game controller forced halfway through the screen. The television was hanging on the wall with an obvious tilt to it. Upon further inspection, you noticed the couch had been turned on its back, a bookshelf had been knocked over, scattering literature all over the floor, and a couple of lamps had been thrown to the floor.  


“You little bitch!” The raspy shriek of Jeff's voice echoed from down the hall that burrowed past the staircase. “I'm gonna fuck you up!”  


“Fuck you, Jeff!” Ben's younger voice retorted to Jeff.  


You followed the voices, unfamiliar with this part of the mansion. The hall was terribly dark, and you could just barely make out the definitions of doors and decorations.  


A shadow whizzed past you, only noticeable for the fact that the rushing air brushed your cheek. Something else flew past you, though it made less of an impact on the air than the previous passerby. There was a firm thunk into the flooring, then the sporadic clinking of something metal dancing on the marble tiles. You whipped your head around to find a knife skidding down the hallway, back toward the lobby. A third something rushed by your side, though he was more vocal about his existence, “You little motherfucker! Get back here!” Jeff turned a sharp left at the bottom of the staircase, having his bare feet nearly slipping out from underneath him.  


A warm hand rested itself on your shoulder. You jumped, not expecting someone else to be part of whatever was going on. You shakily turned your head to eye the hand, finding its long, pale shape to be much more decrepit up close. Following the arm's lead, your eyes ran upward until they found a pale oval of sorts staring down at you. It was then that you noticed the hallways had lit up just enough to expose its contents.  


“Sl-Master,” you nearly slipped up on how you should speak to Slenderman again.  


Slenderman nodded, “Good girl.” The sound of glass shattering echoed in the distance. “I would appreciate that you avoid bickering and destroying my abode as those two do.”  


You gulped and nodded, thankful that Slenderman wasn't here to blame you for the ruckus. “I'll be sure to do that, sir.” Turning the rest of your body to face your master, you remembered what needed to be done today. “When are my tests supposed to start?”  


“Ah, yes,” Slenderman hissed, seemingly pleased with being reminded of this little event. He lifted his hand from your shoulder and tapped a single finger to his chin. “I suppose you've already passed the first two tests, considering that you proved that you are capable of killing those whom you should love and those whom you hate; however,” he prolonged his final word as though producing a sly idea within his black hole of a mind, “you have yet to kill someone whom you have neutral feelings for.”  


Someone you don't have feelings for? Just a random human being. A person you've never met, let alone, knew existed. “That should be easy enough,” you said, though, within yourself, you felt something stir. Maybe it was doubt. You wouldn't be completely sure until the test began.  


“Follow me,” Slenderman gestured to you as he spun around on his heels and began to stroll further down the hallway. You followed, curious, yet reluctant.  


This hall seemed endless, as did the mansion, itself. Aside from the various doors, you also noticed other branch-ways of more hallways. You could only imagine what could be hiding within the mansion – what Slenderman could possibly have such a large home for. Perhaps rooms for other Creepypastas? Torture rooms? A massive library? Storage? Did Slenderman start off with just a simple house?  


The being involved in your thoughts broke the entrancing silence, “You will eventually learn what resides within this building,” he paused, “if you survive long enough, of course.” Slenderman stopped in front of a large, old door. He pressed a hand flat against its surface, then opened it with an effortless push. The thick door swung open to reveal a bleak and stench-filled room. The scent of blood and decay filled your nostrils, making you gag. “I suggest you accustom yourself to this,” Slenderman said nonchalantly, then stepped through the entrance to the room.  


A single window on the far wall was all that lit the room, which hardly at all. As you followed your master into the strangely cold area, you noticed the stone walls and ceiling. It felt like a jail cell from long ago; however, this one was much large and lacked the scurrying of rats.  


The jingling of chains rang in your ears. “No,” someone whimpered. “No, please!” You cast your eyes in the direction of the voice. There, you saw Slenderman approaching a human who had been chained to the cold wall.  


“____, come,” Slenderman commanded. You obliged and hurried to your master's side.  


“Please help me,” the human begged you. Its effeminate voice only making it sound increasingly pathetic. You couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, due to this side of the wall being so dark.  


Slenderman hummed a thought to himself, one that you began to notice as sign of mischievous thoughts running through his mind. “Oh, I will help you. Perhaps a bit of light will aid your effect on my dear candidate.” At that, a single bare light bulb flickered awake above your head. You then clearly saw the person chained to the wall.  


Blood-stained clothes, ripped in various sections. The ragged blonde hair of the young boy stuck to his forehead from the sweat and blood that had smeared on him. He looked to be about your age. His scrawny figure shivered in fear as his blue eyes gazed up to you, pleading for mercy. The boy's wrists and ankles had been bruised and cut into from the shackles around them; he had been struggling.  


A pale hand lowered into your view. In its palm you found a pristine knife, long and sharp. You looked up to Slenderman, sending a question of his orders through your eyes.  


“I would prefer a display of your endurance, ____.” Slenderman held his gaze toward the victim on the wall. “Do what you wish to the human, but keep him alive for as long as you can withstand his screaming.”  


Your eyes flashed between the knife and then boy. Thoughts of your previous murders returned to your mind. Those killings had been quick and generally silent. Slenderman wanted you to listen to this boy's screams. He wanted you to torture this person! That wasn't your style, though.   


“If you desire to be my Proxy,” Slenderman added, “then I must be able to trust that you can kill whomever I appoint you to.”  


So, this was why he wanted you to kill and random person. The torture didn't make much sense, though. Maybe he wanted to make sure you could stomach the murder of anyone he wanted? A faint chuckle from Slenderman's wake confirmed your thoughts.  


With a shaking hand, you plucked the knife from your master's and studied the blade's perfection. No doubt it would cut cleanly. Something told you that Slenderman preferred it that way. This was a test if you could please him, after all.  


The boy's whimpering increased when he saw you take the knife. He knew what was coming, and thus began to sob. “Please don't do it! Please!”  


You bit your lip, part of yourself understanding where the boy was coming from. You had gone through your own sort of torture. Now, after beridding those who hurt you, it was your turn to do the torturing of someone you barely even knew – if at all. Life was funny like that, wasn't it? You had gotten your revenge, but now you were to suffer being the exact person you hated.  


“Heh,” a humorous breath escaped your lips. It grew into a giggle, then a cackle. “This is hell, isn't it?” You laughed to yourself, still gazing at the knife. “I died in the woods, and now I'm in hell. I'm doomed to forever see the point of views of my victims.” You gripped the knife handle, then stepped up to the sobbing boy. “Well, if that's the case, then I might as well make a game out of it.”  


For the first cut, you decided to carefully slice down the boy's chest, right in the center. The silvery blade split the threads of your victim's shirt as thought it were butter. Blood trickled down, chasing after your knife as the boy screamed out. His voice rang in your ears, making them want to burst. You clasped your free hand over his mouth, only to deal with his struggling and attempted thrashing. Still, you continued to run the knife down his chest until you reached his belly button.  


This was just like biology class, except this wasn't a frog – and he was alive. You thought it best to start off this way because it was the frog was something you had neutral feelings for. Yes, just a frog.  


A pair of hands gripped your shoulders and pulled you back, allowing the boy to scream openly. Slenderman leaned down to your ear and said, “This is no frog. Take a good look, my dear ____. I want you know exactly what you're doing.”  


The blonde boy struggled against the shackles and chains. His wrists and ankles began to bleed with fresh fluids. The long cut down his chest and stomach trickled freely, weeping with pain. The sobbing of the boy hit your ears like a broken record as he begging you to stop. “No more,” he blubbered.  


“Oh, but this was just the first cut,” Slenderman replied to your victim. He then pushed you forward, urging you to continue what you had started.  


You were now shaking. You knew full well that this was a fellow human that you were carving in to. This was no frog, no animal, no person who you hated. This boy was probably some kid who was bullied at school just like you were. He was just like you. That's right. He was you, and you were the bully.  


You really were in hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too fond of having to manually input the paragraph breaks when posting these chapters. It takes a long time. :/ From what I read in instructions, it's supposed to detect and adjust the spacing accordingly, but that's not happening for me. Any suggestions?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go through more of the tests, including the final one. Come to find out, you're not exceedingly wonderful, but you're acceptable.

The stench of metallic bodily fluids were all that you could smell – all that you could taste. It weighed heavy in the air, just as the boy's now deceased body weighed against the chains that otherwise held him up. You stepped back, trying to admire your work on the corpse, but you found yourself gawking, instead. Remnants of the boy's unclotted blood dripped from his numerous wounds, ringing loudly in your ears. They seemed to tick the seconds by, reminding you that time hadn't stopped, though it sure felt like it.  


Had you really done this? Had you truly dissected an innocent boy? Skinned him alive? Removed his organs one by one, depending on how important they were to survive?  


To many humans, this would be considered an grotesque mess of mutilation and horror. Your soon-to-be-master, Slenderman, saw it as a form of high-quality art. His large, bony hand patted your shoulder with approval, “I must say, ____, your incisions are divine.”  


“Have I,” you gulped, not sure if you're speaking out of turn, “have I passed the test?” Your eyes remained frozen on your artistic slaughter.  


A chuckle echoed above you as Slenderman plucked the knife from your shivering hand, “You've passed with grace.”  


You whirled around to face the Tall Man, finding him to be walking away from you into a darker corner of the room. “That means I'm a Proxy now, right?”  


Slenderman disappeared into the darkness, followed by the faint clinking of metal. He soon returned, knife no long in hand, and stopped only just within view. “Far from it, young ____. You still must prove your loyalty and endurance.”  


Your heart sank at Slenderman's response. From the sounds of it, you had two more tests to attempt. That means two more chances to fail. Two more chances for you to be eaten or dismembered or both by one of the Creepypastas in the mansion.  


“Come,” Slenderman waved a hand and exited the dungeonesque room with you close behind.  


The tall form of your Master lead you deeper into the mansion, soon approaching a pair of large glass doors. Beyond these doors, you could see a lively garden of exotic flora. Something told you to be careful around them.  


Pushing the glass doors open, Slenderman stepped outside, his pristine dress shoes clicking on the stone patio. You closed the doors behind you, confusion filling your head with questions of why you would have a test out here. All the while, Slenderman was inspecting the flowers, almost ignoring your presence. The silence between you two was unnerving, to say the least. Whatever this entity was planning, it couldn't be good.  


A gust of wind blew across the patio, sprinkling a fair amount of pollen right across your nose. The tiny flower sperm tickled your nostrils until you finally couldn't contain yourself further. You released a powerful sneeze, making your presence irresistibly known.  


Slenderman turned to you, calm as ever and pulled the neatly folded handkerchief from his suit pocket. He approached you, and offered the cloth tissue without a word. Something radiated from him, though. A slyness in his air.  


Reluctantly, you accepted the tissue and wiped your nose with it, sniffling out the discomfort you had created with your sneeze.  


“Better?” Slenderman questioned, breaking the awkward silence.  


Immediately, your vision blurred only just enough for you to notice. Your head, however, felt incredibly light and dizzy. Something was on that tissue. A chemical or poison, but it was something.  


“I'm not sure,” you stumbled through your short utterance of words. Eying Slenderman, you noticed a fiercely jagged line appear across his otherwise nonexistent face. The line gradually grew thicker as you stared at it in horror. Were you hallucinating? You couldn't tell.  


“Then I suggest you run,” Slenderman's voice growled hungrily. The strange jagged line was no longer a mystery to you. This was the being's mouth! His variously lengthened teeth lined his lips like the mouth of an ancient cave.  


You didn't waste time. There was no reason to ask why you should run, considering that this was indeed a monster threatening you. Nearly slipping from under yourself, your feet attempted to turn and push you at the same time, eager to get away from the danger. You found your stability and high-tailed it right across the patio, crashing through a bush of some flora your weren't familiar with. Beyond this garden, you recognized the dark forest you had seen from outside your bedroom window. You pushed yourself harder to escape into the thickly collected trees.  


The crunching and scattering of leaves didn't aid your attempt to hide yourself. Besides that, every time you tried to stop and hide, you would see Slenderman just in the distance, watching you with a predatory aura around him. Your breath was already heavy, no thanks to the combination of fear, adrenaline, and the constant running. It didn't help that whatever was on that handkerchief completely affected your thought process.  


There were many times that you could have sworn someone else was chasing you. There were other sets of footsteps in the forest, rushing around nearby. Each time you whipped your head around in its direction, there would be nothing to give reason to the noises. Then, of course, you would find the ever aggressive Slenderman closing in on you. The very sight of his horizontally split head rushing down to devour you was more than enough to get you running again. When you would look back, the entity would be gone without a trace.  


With heavy, raspy breaths drying out your throat, you continued further into the forest of orange and black. You didn't know how long you had been running, but you could feel your body begging to give way from underneath you. Your legs felt like jello, yet you were able to continue swinging them just enough to keep your propelled forward. Your stumbling amplified with each step, though. By this point, your vision was blurred over completely. The only reason you could just navigate the forest was due to its contrast in colors.  


Unfortunately, your vision began to tunnel. A ringing in your ears chimed from somewhere within your head. You felt nauseated, though not enough to empty your bowls just yet.  


As the high-frequency ringing grew ever louder, your vision closed in on itself. Then, you saw nothing. A crunching sound, along with a solid thump, vaguely registered in your mind. You began to dream.  


It involved the Halloween-styled forest, its master standing within your view. His dark tendrils waved from behind him like patient serpents waiting to strike. Something forced you to hold a gaze on Slenderman's stark face. Even when you tried to close your eyes, you somehow still saw straight through the lids clear as day. Panic coursed through you, the empty stare from Slenderman picking away at your sanity. You tried to turn your gaze, but nothing would result in what you wanted. His hold on your vision was strong, and he wanted you to see his glory – his power.  


A rush of cold water stung your face, bringing you back to an awakened state. Your sudden gasp at the freezing liquid caused a bit to enter your trachea. A short session of breathless coughs got you moving to sit up.  


“No time for naps, candidate!” Hoodie's voice had a hint of amusement laced within.  


You looked up to find the yellow-clad man standing over you with an empty pale in hand. The mask hiding his face had a noticeably red frown on it, but you sensed a smirk behind it. “What the hell happened?” You woozily tried to stand, still feeling the dizzying effects of whatever was in that handkerchief  


“Well, you passed the endurance test! Just above the 'average' time, too,” Hoodie tossed the pale to a corner of the familiar garden patio. He patted a firm hand on your shoulder to congratulate you.  


“So,” you tried to piece everything together, “Master wasn't trying to kill me?”  


Raising his hands to imitate a balance scale, Hoodie replied, “Kinda sorta? I mean, if you didn't keep running, he'd kill you, but he wasn't trying very hard, either.”  


You gulped, realizing just how lucky you were to let your instincts get the best of you. “I'm pretty sure that wasn't also the loyalty test.” It was worth at try to ask, but you inwardly knew the answer.  


“That's the boring test,” Hoodie sighed. “I can't say anything about it, but just know that it's boring.” He then chuckled, “Well, I guess it depends how loyal you are.”  


Before you could question him further, Hoodie opened the glass doors leading back into the mansion, leaving you alone on the patio. Slenderman was nowhere to be found.  


It was probably the better half of an hour that you had stood there on the patio, waiting for Slenderman to return. Not a soul – or entity – came along to tell you what to do, though. A spark of panic began to twinge in your chest as you feared that maybe you were supposed to have gone somewhere else in the mansion. Would Slenderman be furious with you if you don't get there soon? Wherever “there” was, of course.  


You looked across the patio, gazing to the black and orange forest beyond. The idea of escaping this place crossed your mind, but the memories of being chased by the Tall Man reminded you of just how futile such an attempt would be.  


A growling in your stomach reminded you that nourishment had yet to be taken care of. You considered whether or not leaving the patio would be a risk, even if it was just to get to the kitchen. Since you hadn't been given direct orders to stay outside, you shrugged it all off and opened the glass doors. A musky, dark scent wafted into your nostrils. The dim lighting of the mansion was a huge contrast compared to what was outside. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you closed the door behind you and crept cautiously down the hall. It was probably the only hall you were familiar with on the first floor, since Slenderman had lead you through it earlier this morning.  


You reached the lobby without a single disturbance. Part of you expected to see or hear Jeff and Ben still chasing each other over who-knows-what. Utter silence continued to fill year ears, only accompanied by the blunt tapping of your shoes and that faint ringing. Curiosity about the condition of the living room struck you, so you took a peer around the doorway.  


To your surprise, the living room was back to its pristine appearance. Even the television had been replaced. A fleeting question in your mind wondered how exactly these Creepypastas acquired their furnishings so quickly. Perhaps you would learn of their tricks later on.  


You shrugged off your current wonderment when the churning in your stomach reminded you of why you were wandering around the mansion all alone. Again, you walked in silence down the hall across the lobby, making a bee-line for the kitchen.  


Upon entering the food distribution center, you found that still no one was around. Your eyes narrowed, curious as to what was going on. Surely the Creepypastas hadn't left you all alone in the mansion. You weren't exactly someone they could trust. Someone had to be watching you from a distance.  


You peered over your shoulder, expecting to see Slenderman or one of his Proxies standing in the doorway.  


Nothing.  


You shook you head and sighed. It wasn't worth it to get your nerves flaring in a mansion full of murderous people, right? If that were the case, you'd have died of a hear attack by now.  


Focusing on your primary task, you managed to scrounge up some slices of slightly stale bread, a nearly empty jar of peanut butter, and an old banana. The silly jingles that you were taught back in grade school chimed through your head.  


Peanut! Peanut butter!  


And bananas!  


There wasn't much more to the song than that. Or rather, you couldn't really remember more than those parts. You mumbled the jingle to yourself as you prepared your peanut butter and banana sandwich, despite its poor quality. Considering the age of the rest of the food here, this was pretty fresh stuff!  


You reluctantly devoured your makeshift sandwich, bypassing the textures of mushy banana slices and stale bread as best you could. Gazing around the kitchen and taking note of its design seemed to distract you from your disgust in the food. The dim lighting made it difficult to accurately see everything, but your eyes had adjusted rather well. It would be nice to turn on the light just by walking in to a room, though, seeing as how there were no light switches. You silently hoped that it was a Proxy perk of some sort.  


After finishing your sandwich, you snatched a bottle of water from the fridge and decided to go hang out in the living room. Part of you hoped that staying there would guarantee someone would show up at some point. You crossed the marble-floored lobby, passing the large double doors bearing stained glass. A twinge in your chest caused you to stop in your tracks, however. The sight of the doors reminded you that you had a chance to escape. You had a chance to get out of here and – then what?  


You couldn't show your face in public. The police were surely looking for you. Heck, living on the run didn't sound all that great, either. How would you make money? Did you even want to continue killing people just to survive?  


Flashbacks of your time with the boy down in the cellar had your questioning your own sanity. You had struggled to kill the boy – someone you didn't even know. There was no other reason behind his demise than Slenderman's encouragement. Honestly, if you had the choice, you would have let the boy live. He did nothing to you. You killed him because you wanted to survive.  


So, again, the question came up: could you live on the run, killing people for their money and belongings?  


Maybe.  


But how long would it last? And would you have a safe and permanent home to return to?  


Most likely not. Heck, you'd probably wouldn't last all that long, considering the street thugs out there. They were probably much more threatening than yourself.  


With a sigh, you hesitantly took a step forward, then continued your way into the living room. It was there that you reclined on the couch and stared up to the ceiling as you sipped on your bottle of water.  


Your mind wandered, having the idea that maybe Slenderman wanted to give you one task per day? That still doesn't quite explain why you were left secluded in their own home. You could easily destroy everything or even run to civilization and - get arrested on the spot.  


Right.  


That would be why the Creepypastas weren't all too concerned with your seclusion.  


The comfort of the couch soothed your body. Your eyes began to feel heavy as the rush of this morning's events began to catch up with you. It didn't take long for you to drift into a light sleep. A nap seemed like a good idea, anyway.  


A petal-soft surface gently brushed over your lips, tracing around their edges of lush pink with a focused curiosity. It seemed to take note of each creases, each wrinkle, that the inner edges of your mouth comprises of. Then, it slowly drifted itself over your chin, tracing your jaw line until it reached the lobe of your ear. The foreign object felt similar to a finger, but it was far too smooth and soft. You felt its presence cascade down your neck, heading to your collar bone as it left a trail of warmth in your skin. A sigh escaped you, pleasure filling you with a tingling sensation in your arms and chest. Your eyes fluttered open from their slumber, hoping to see who was inspecting you so carefully.  


The familiar white skin of your soon-to-be-master hovered high above you from the couch. His arms were tucked behind his back, and not one of his tendrils were protruding. You knitted your brows in thought, unsure if the touch along your face and neck was just a dream.  


“Good work, ____,” Slenderman echoed in the mansion's atmosphere. “You have passed your test of loyalty.”  


You parted your lips to correct Slenderman. In truth, you only stayed in the mansion due to reasoning with yourself of how much worse it would be with the humans. Instead, you shut your lips tight, deciding to allow Slenderman to think that you were actually loyal to him. You weren't against him, either, but that wasn't quite the issue here.  


“Your final test will consist of something far more,” Slenderman paused, “interesting.” There was a sly smirk to his words. They sent a chill down your spine.  


You sat up on the couch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Do I get details of this test, or will I be going in blind like the other ones?” You tried your best not to sound rude with your questions, but they still had that crankiness in their tones.  


With every lack of a word, Slenderman raised his hand and snatched you up to his eye level by your throat. He gripped you only tight enough to hold you, but it did no good in keeping you calm. You tried to struggle, but the dim walls of the mansion were quickly replaced by modest daylight and “Halloween trees”. At this point, Slenderman dropped you to your feet, where you gasped and coughed. He vanished, once again leaving you to solitude.  


After quickly catching your breath, you assessed your surroundings. It was the same forest as when the Tall Man chased you. Trees, bushes, leaves, haunting silence. Well, it was silent, until the crunching of leaves scratched your ears, making you whip around in its direction.  


A darkly dressed man with a blue mask stepped from behind a tree. In one hand, he held a scalpel. You swiftly recognized him as Eyeless Jack. From what you remembered of him, this was not the person you wanted to be alone with. Unfortunately, here you were. The man's mask dripped with its tar-like liquids. From how he leaned his head, you knew that he was eying you pretty hard, probably contemplating on how he wanted to kill you.  


“W-what are we here for?” You uttered the question, though you had a strong feeling of the answer already.  


Jack didn't bother answering you. He and Slenderman needed to stop doing that. Instead, the blue-masked man rushed toward you, closing the distance significantly fast. At first, you froze up like a deer in headlights. A shriek of terror escaped your lips as Jack raised a fist to your head. Instincts kicked in for you. Most of it was a blur. Somehow, you ducked just in time to dodge Jack's punch to your head. You then lurched forward and tackled the man with your shoulder, causing both of you to collide with the forest floor.


	5. Chapter 5

The leaves were much softer than you had expected them to be. Even the dirt seemed to be made of some sort of silk or plush fabric. The forest also seemed a lot darker than you remembered before tackling Eyeless Jack to the ground.  


No, wait. This wasn't the forest. There was no sound of the dancing leaves in the wind. Even Jack didn't seem to be there, since you were simply lying on your back without a single bit of struggle. The air around you was far too peaceful for what you could last remember had happened.  


Cracking open your eyes to the utterly dark surroundings that were the make-up of your bedroom, you found the vague bit of moonlight trickling through the sheer drapes at your window. As your vision slowly cleared, you noticed a pale orb hover above the foot of your bed; or perhaps it was closer to the wall in the direction. You groaned, now feeling the stinging pains in your skin.  


“It's a shame that you couldn’t keep a clear mind during our last test,” the deep, honey-lemon voice of Slenderman rumbled into your mind, caressing your eardrums. “I suppose there must be some flaws with perfection; wabi-sabi, as they say.”  


You licked your dry lips, feeling a strange tug on the surface of your chin. Reaching to the odd sensation, your arm muscles begged to be left still. Everything in your body ached with soreness. You felt as though you had run miles, but had no memory of it. Still, your fingers made contact with your chin, only to find a bandage of sorts firmly plastered over a portion of it.  


Forcing a raspy noise from your throat, you attempted to ask, “What happened?”  


A chuckle escaped Slenderman, and the pale orb near your bed floated closer, letting the moonlight illuminate the tall man's otherwise black suit. White, bony hands fell onto your bed on either side of your legs, guiding Slenderman's lanky body toward you as he crawled over your form. It wasn't until the vague impressions of this creature's face became noticeable to you that he stopped, inches from your nose.  


“What happened, my dear ____, is that you have proven yourself well,” Slenderman groaned in pleasure, ignoring your uncomfortable squirming underneath him. “If only you could have witnessed your talents. How I enjoyed it so.” The lower half of his face began to shred open into jagged flaps that shaped into a fearsome grinning mouth. From out of this mouth's depths slithered an inky black tongue, dripping with putrid saliva. “What happened,” Slenderman breathed, “was that you became my Proxy.”  


Despite your absolute desire to shove the large man off of you, your muscles refused to obey. They were just far too weakened and sore from the day's events. Instead, you quaked beneath your master, fearing what he had in mind. You cringed at the feeling of Slenderman's drenched tongue run from your chin and along your cheek. It reached the corner of your eye, to where it stopped and retreated back into the jagged mouth from whence it came. The tingling sensation of a foreign substance lingered where you had been licked. Its warmth gradually faded away.  


“Say it,” Slenderman hissed excitedly. “What am I to you?”  


Your lips quivered, afraid of what may happen if you obey or defy the being's command. Either way seemed like a horrible ending with the way he was acting.  


“Say it!” A terrible searing pain waved through your brain, forcing out an utterance of discomfort. Your back arched and your muscles screamed with displeasure.  


Gasping and collapsing back into the softness of your bed, you whispered with a weak voice, “Master.”  


A pleased moan escaped Slenderman. He seemed to be enjoy knowing that he was in charge. A dominant air swirled around him. With nonexistent eyes, the head of Slenderman stared at you, watching your expressions twitch between relief and distress. The jagged lips that formed his mouth resealed themselves, not even leaving a scar.  


He was gone.  


It took you a few seconds to even notice the change of scenery that was your master. Rather than straddling over your body, he was back to the foot of you bed, standing with a noble posture as though nothing had happened between the two of you.  


Parting your lips to ask if any of that really happened, you were quickly interrupted by Slenderman's deep voice, “Rest yourself. You've suffered many injuries, but have earned your place here. The Jacks will visit you here and there to monitor your recovery.”  


The Jacks? He must have meant Laughing Jack and Eyeless Jack. Were they the nurses of the mansion? Something about that didn't make you feel comfortable, especially with the thought of Eyeless Jack being alone in the same room with you. No doubt, he still hated you. Though, considering that you were now an official Proxy of Slenderman, you might be under some sort of protection, right?  


It was thought very thought that caused your reality to sink in.  


You were now a Proxy of Slenderman.  


Part of you had expected some sort of ceremony or cult ritual that you had seen in films. Maybe that would come later when you could actually move on your own.  


That irritating discomfort of your legs laying flat out for too long because to make itself known in the back of your knees. It was an anxious sort of feeling, as though you needed to just move your legs and run off the strange burst of energy. Of course, you didn't need to run, but simply curl up into a ball of pain on your side.  


And that's exactly what you did.  


The very effort of twisting your body onto its side was a challenge in itself. You drew your knees level with your hips and wrapped your arms around your shoulders. Every muscle within you demurred your movements, but you eventually settled to a comfortable position. During that time of aching, you noticed other bandages and splints variously placed on your body. There was a splint around your left ankle, a gauze securely wrapped around your right thigh, and plenty of butterfly closures scattered on your abdomen and arms. The swelling of your right eye also exposed itself. You had a pretty good idea that it would be black if it wasn't already that way.  


It was then that, after some time of making note to each individual pain on your body, you lulled yourself to sleep.  


A coalescence of a dream and a nightmare manifested within the depths of your wearied mind. Your master's severed face staring down at you with lust and desire with the vague expressions in his muscles, though more apparent in the very air around him. The fear within you sent shivers throughout your skin, unsure of what tortures you may face. A sharp fingertip trailed along your cheek, testing the durability of your skin, which held up fairly.  


You raised a hand to return the gesture to Slenderman, tenderly running your fingers along the jagged lips of his abyss of a mouth. He didn't respond at first, then hesitantly nuzzled into your palm. You could have sworn that there was a gentle side to this entity; a side that he held deep within himself.  


His sharp finger ran down your jawline, trailing to your throat. The sensation of his gentle demeanor warmed you with unfamiliar feelings. You didn't even notice until it was too late that all of Slenderman's lanky fingers wrapped themselves around your throat, pushing up to pin you against your pillow. The weight of him threatened to crush your windpipe, yet you still managed to gasp in tiny breaths of air. Staring to his deformed white face for some sort of explanation, you watched in panic as that slimy black tongue slithered from your master's jagged mouth and reached down to your lips.  


The warmth of his saliva quickly cooled against the air as Slenderman's tongue swirled around your gasping mouth. At one moment, you expected things to become intimate, but you were quickly reminded of who you were dealing with when the entity's tongue darted into your mouth and shot down your throat, completely closing your airways. You tried to cough it out, gag, even squirm under your master's force, but to no avail. The clenching in your chest alerted you to how your lungs were straining to move air, and they were having as much success as you were to surviving.  


Darkness enveloped you. It was so sudden that you had almost forgotten about the dream entirely, especially when you woke up to the morning light in your eyes.  


Your wearily sat up, only to collapse back down due to how your body protesting with sharp and aching pains. A groan of frustration escaped you just when your bedroom door swung open without a single hint of respect that you were in there. For all anyone knew, you could have been changing clothes!  


It was Laughing Jack. He was carrying an antique silver tray full of medication and breakfast. With further examination of his physique, you noticed some cuts and bandages scattered over the few exposed areas of his body – particularly his face.  


“Please tell me you have pain meds,” you groaned your morning voice to the monochrome clown who approached your side of the bed.  


“What sort of mansion would this be if we didn't have full supply of drugs?” Laughing Jack rested the tray on the dark oak nightstand that stood against the wall next to your bed. He began opening the only two medication bottles and dumping a single pill from each. “Besides, I'd say you deserve them.”  


In the morning light, you only just noticed that Jack's cone-shaped nose was wrapped with tape halfway from the tip. A tuft of hair was missing from one side of his head, which left an obvious bald spot. As he handed you the pills and a glass of water, you hesitated to ask, “What happened to you?”  


Jack chuckled as you swallowed the numbing candy and gulped some water, “Slenderman said you wouldn't remember.” He watched as you arched a brown in question, hoping he would further explain, “You did this - to just about all of us, actually.”  


An expression of awe washed over your face. Never did you imagine to be able to fight back against any of the Creepypastas. Slenderman's words from earlier flooded into your head, making question exactly what happened during that fight in the woods. All you remembered was when you tackled Eyeless Jack to the ground, then you woke up in your bed. “All of you?”  


Jack took your glass and sat it back on the tray, trading it for a bowl of cereal. “Almost. Slenderman was obviously unharmed, I managed to get out with minimal damage, and Ben was the one who stopped you with his fire.” You cringed at the mention of Ben's strange fire as you gripped the spoon for your cereal.  


“Should I watch my back from now on,” you asked, wondering if the others would want revenge for whatever damage you did to them.  


Humming to himself in amused thought, Jack popped his overall straps with his thumbs and grinned a devilish grin. “Oh, you won't have to worry about being killed by any of us. You're officially Slenderman's property now; however, that doesn't protect you from getting bullied around.”  


Your stomach sank at the thought of being bullied all over again. You had murdered the ones at your school and your abusive parents, but even here you had to face the horrors of physical abuse. There was no escape, it seemed.  


With any luck, and no doubt Slenderman's influence on the other residents of the mansion, you were undisturbed by anyone who intended to exact their revenge on you. For the next two days, you hid in your room so you could heal up from your incredibly sore muscles and aching flesh wounds. Laughing Jack was kind enough to bring you medicine and food, though he seemed to be hiding some sort of ideals in his eyes. The way he scanned those clouded grey irises over your form, as though to determine when you might be ready to suffer his wrath. Some of Jack's visits were awkward and quiet, while others you brought up your concerns over Masky's condition.  


Jack assured you that he was improving. There was an intriguing factor within the mansion's atmosphere - one that increased the healing rate of the accepted residents. Your injuries were minor, thus only requiring a couple of days to be comfortable to move around. Masky had suffered severe internal injuries only a couple of days prior your arrival at the mansion.  


The third morning that you awoke, you found your body far more responsive and cooperative than the first. So much so, that you dared to venture from your safe haven of a bedroom and forage for your own breakfast. While you wandered carefully down the halls and staircase, you noticed that the lights would turn on automatically at your presence, despite no one else seeming to be around. The thought that perhaps becoming an official resident of the mansion caused this ran through your head. A tiny, proud smirk flickered at the corner of your lips.  


Upon reaching the kitchen, you found Jeff tearing into sandwich that was very literally slapped together. Next to him on the counter was a bottle of whiskey. At this point, you were beginning to think that it was the only thing he even drank. Before you could ask, the permanently grinning man cast a threatening glance in your direction, to which you instinctively flinched. As you stepped further into the kitchen, inevitably closer to Jeff, so that you could inspect the contents of the refrigerator, you noticed several bald spots on the man's head. The flesh around both of his eyes seemed browned, as though they had been severely bruised and were now healing away. The mushed debris of Jeff's sandwich was seeping through his mouth scars, though he didn't seem to mind.  


You shied away from studying Jeff's condition when he snatched up his whiskey bottle and began to chug its contents down as though it were mere water. The refrigerator's insides suddenly become much more interesting to you, to which you found a partially used gallon of milk, bread, bottles of water, and a jar of mystery jelly. Considering that Jeff was leaned against the counter than held the bowls and silverware, you settled just making a sandwich as well - a jelly sandwich, it seemed. You used the closest surface to piece together your food, soon finding that the mystery jelly was even more mysterious than you originally imagined. It seemed to have chucks of something in it - figs, perhaps? Either way, it held the traditional sweet scent, so you scooped a bit onto the bread slices and spread it around, earning yourself a snort from Jeff's direction.  


When you whipped your head around to see what he was reacting to, you only found him shoving the last bit of his own sandwich into his mouth, looking very much away from you. A glint in his lidless eyes hinted that he was very much watching you expectantly. This had you suspicious of your food, but you mentally shrugged it off and squashed the bread slices together. Hesitantly, you brought the sandwich up to your mouth and took a small bite so to test out the flavor. You still weren't sure what exactly you were eating, and Jeff's behavior didn't make you feel any more comfortable about it.  


Your teeth cut through one of the chunks that came with the jelly. Its texture seemed smooth, yet had a meaty feeling to it. A hint of some metallic flavor laced your taste buds beyond the sugary sweetness. Even as you slowly chewed, you paid far more attention to listening in on how Jeff was reacting to your actions. He seemed deadly quiet, and you strained to watch him from the corner of your eye while trying not to obviously stare at him. All the man did was take swig after casual swig of his whiskey. You eventually finished your sandwich, neutral about how it tasted, and no less confused of its contents than before. As you opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water, Jeff lost his cool.  


By the time you turned around, your eyebrows risen to maximum height at the man's sudden change of behavior, you found Jeff the Killer curled up on the floor laughing so hard that his otherwise white skin was flushing a deep pink. He rolled and rolled, tears dripping from the corners of his eyes as you gawked at him in utter confusion. He continued to scream something over and over, but it was too incoherent with his choked laughter that you couldn't understand.  


"Jeff," you watched the man gasp for breath with little positive results, "what was in that jar?" Your stomach began to twist in anticipation of what you might hear.  


"EJ'S GONNA SHIT HIMSELF!" Jeff broke out into another round of laughter, kicking his legs into the air. You swore you saw a dark stain on Jeff's pants, signaling that he may very well have urinated a little from laughing so hard.  


Your heart sank at the sound of Eyeless Jack being mentioned. It didn't take you long to put the puzzle pieces together, to which you slapped your hand over your mouth as your stomach did a flip. It became quite obvious to you at this point that you had just eaten preserved kidneys. The taste of blood remaining in your mouth was all too apparent now, and you weren't sure how to react to this. Your human side was repulsed, yet your new Proxy side tried to reason that this would be a normal occurrence, and you should get used to blood, whether it be on your hands or in your mouth.  


All at once, you snatched the bottle of water from the fridge and ripped off the cap as quickly as possible, chugging the cold liquid and swishing it around in hopes that the taste of your breakfast would wash away.  


It didn't.  


So you tossed the bottle aside and grabbed the gallon of milk, performing the same actions, but not before noticing dried red marks around the jug's opening. Your stared at it for a moment, then rushed to the cabinets that contained glassware, pouring the milk into a clean cup. Only then did you drink it.  


The sweet taste of milk heavily masked the metallic sting of blood, and in that moment, you questioned how such disgusting people could be allowed to live in a building owned by an entity who was far more cleanly. Jeff's maniacal laughed answered your question, however; they were insane - all of them.  


And so were you.  


Eventually, you would be just like them. The sight, taste, and smell of blood would eventually be as normal as oxygen to you.  


Lowering the jug to the counter, you sighed, accepting your future self. It wouldn't happen overnight, of course, but you would eventually become similar to these people. Part of you prayed that you would at least not be nearly as deranged as Jeff, though.  


"____," your master's voice melted your insides with pleasure as he stated your name from the kitchen doorway. You turned to face him, and Slenderman continued, "now that you have recovered, we should discuss your appearance as my Proxy." He tilted his head in Jeff's direction, the muscles of his brow knitting together in curiosity, though he seemed not interested enough to ask what had happened.  


You replaced the cap onto the milk jug, set your cup in the sink, and shoved the milk back into the refrigerator before approaching your master's side. At first, you were going to outright ask what exactly was going to happen, but something inside your chest pinched and stopped you to choose your words carefully. "May I speak, Master?"  


"I will allow it," Slenderman replied, turning to exit the kitchen.  


"I didn't think you had a uniform look for your Proxies. What exactly will I be changing in my appearance?" You dared to glance up and Slenderman, waiting for his answer.  


A warm chuckle escaped Slenderman's wake, something your certainly weren't expecting from him. He then replied, "My requirements are vague, but I do enjoy to have a pattern for my Proxies. At most, I require that you wear a mask with some design of a face marked upon it. I find it as an ironic, yet symbolic, trait."  


"How so?"  


"Despite my lack of a face, I am always watching, ____."  


It was then that you realized Slenderman's scowl at Jeff wasn't out of curiosity, but of annoyance that the killer was so easily entertained by another person's mistakes. Your master had known well what had happened. This was his mansion, after all. He controlled its structure, its atmosphere, its contents, even its functions. Slenderman was a powerful being, not only in strength, but within the depths of his mind as well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clothes and stuff!
> 
> Slenderman gets all dominant, which is what sparked the grand idea that I needed to write a lemon, which turned into "Breaking the Barrier".
> 
> Yeah...

After being led by your master down a hall to the right of the grand staircase, Slenderman and you entered a room that, no doubt, was dedicated to crafting and fabricating the trademark attire of the Creepypasta residents. Each section of the room was organized for its specific function; fabrics, sewing tools, paints, and mask molds. Some fabrics looked familiar, others not so much. You noticed the lack of green fabric in the stock, and asked no one in particular, “What about Ben’s clothes?”  


“Ben is a poltergeist. Thus, he doesn’t require material objects, such as clothes and food,” Slenderman answered. He strode to the side of the room dedicated to mask crafting, seeming to gaze over its contents that were so neatly placed. “That does not necessarily imply that Ben avoids our objects altogether – you’ve seen this example in the living room, already.”  


You only nodded, recalling your first encounter with Ben while he was playing his odd video game. When you turned your attention from the fabrics to your master, you found him curling a finger at you, gesturing for you to approach where he stood. You gulped, afraid to wear Slenderman’s patience thin, as you rushed over to his side.  


There were typical and peculiar things in the stash of crafting materials. One of the most odd was a full set of wolf teeth, to which you snatched up as ideas for your mask swirled in your head. You placed them on the empty table nearby, only to turn as Slenderman snatched your chin between his index finger and thumb, and then placed a plastic mask over your face. He held it there for a moment, contemplating his intentions for your disguise. The small space for your nose wasn’t very comfortable, limiting the amount of air that moved through your nostrils as you breathed. The echo of your wind was amplified, too, which made you feel a bit uncomfortable with how it would affect your hearing.  


“Master,” you mumbled, to which Slenderman removed the mask and released. “Maybe just a half-mask would do better. I could breathe easier.” You gestured over the upper half of your face as indication to how the mask would be worn.  


There was a long, unnerving silence between the two of you as Slenderman remained still for what seemed like several long seconds. His head turned to the shelves and drawers of crafting supplies, supposedly running all of his stock through his mind. The very moment he took a step back to the shelves, your master broke the silence, “I prefer my Proxies with full masks.” He plucked a particularly shiny sheet of metal from a shelf. It was only 2 feet in length; you weren’t sure exactly how thick it was, but it was thicker than a sheet of paper, for sure. From where you stood, you noticed smooth ridges of a scale design on the material’s surface. “This has been sitting here for some time, however; I would like to see something done with it.” Slenderman held out the sheet to you with his gangly arm.  


You took the metallic sheet with both hands, afraid to make it wrinkle, then gently swung it over to the table and laid it flat next to the wolf teeth. To your surprise, the sheet was light, like aluminum, but much more difficult to damage. Glancing between the teeth and the sheet of metal, you began sliding the teeth in place below the shiny material. A full top row of teeth might be too much, so you plucked away from the back molars until you had three left from the canine fangs. As you paused to try and imagine the mask as its finished design, a notebook and pencil were rested next to you on the table. You glanced up and over your shoulder at Slenderman before taking the pencil in hand and began sketching your design ideas.  


For the next two hours, your master watched you from behind, silent as a predator studying his prey. Every so often he would approach you and look over your various sketches, most of them scratched out, others you had circled and made little notes of what you wanted to keep. When you had a pretty regular pattern of ideas, Slenderman stopped you and slapped a wad of damp molding clay of sorts over your eyes. At first, you raised your hands to fight back, startled by your master’s sudden actions, but remembered what would happen if you didn’t comply.  


Slenderman continued to smooth the mold over the top half of your face, making sure to get each crease and curve until the edges of your hairline and ears, down to the tip of your nose. He then pushed you down into a chair and pulled on your hair until you leaned your head back so that the mold wouldn’t succumb to gravity and fall off. “Stay. It has to dry.”  


So, you did your best to recline in the chair and make yourself comfortable. A smirk crept onto one corner of your lips as the thought of Slenderman giving you a make-over entered your thoughts. How crazy would that be if he was actually a fashion designer in secret? Or at least had a brother like that? Some flamboyant entity who would talk with his hips and throw his hands around as he talked.  


You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle your laugh. There was no telling if Slenderman was still in the room with you or if he had gone to take care of other things while the mold dried, so you didn’t want to risk him prying into your mind and finding the mischievous thoughts that ran through it.  


In all honesty, you had noticed a more gentle side to your master ever since you became his Proxy. Perhaps you were simply being obedient enough for him? Or maybe he treats his Proxies better than candidates? It would be best to ask Hoodie or Ticci Toby, rather than finding out first hand. They seemed pretty at ease around Slenderman, but maybe that was because they knew what they couldn’t and couldn’t get away with.  


None of this eased your worries of being a Proxy.  


“I guess I’ll just have to do what I’m told,” you mumbled, “not like I haven’t been doing that all my life.” The sarcasm in your voice was thick. Frustration filled your chest at the thought of your efforts to escape the oppression of your human life were all for naught. Heck, this was probably worse!  


Maybe not quite; at least you were allowed to expel your anger here. Humans frowned upon others being angry and showing their feelings. Here, at the Creepypasta mansion, the residents didn’t seem to mind at all – so long as they weren’t the punching bags.  


The back of your neck was tingling and cold from the lack of blood flow, thanks to the chair-back you rested it on. You weren’t even sure how long it had been since you first sat there, and part of you wondered if you were supposed to decide when the mold was dry enough. Tapping your finger lightly on the mold on your face, you tested its durability before pressing a bit harder. It seemed decently dry – like paper maché – when you knocked the tips of your fingernails onto it. The braver half of you began lifting the mold off, fresh air cooling your exposed skin.  


Something snatched the mask away from you, making you nearly jump out of your seat and swear under your breath. Hopefully, one day, you’ll be used to Slenderman’s deafly quiet demeanor.  


It wasn’t difficult for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room. In front of you, your master stood, inspecting the stiffened mold carefully held between his elongated fingers. Mere moments later, Slenderman disappeared without warning. You whipped your head this way and that, wondering if he was still within the room, to which you found the Tall One plucking up the sheet of scaled metal.  


“Stay here,” he commanded, only to disappear once again.  


Your mouth contorted in some sort of frustrated, but knowing, frown. You sat back in the chair, not even sure if you were allowed to get up. The minutes went by painfully slow as you gazed around the room, wondering what on earth your master could be doing right now. It obviously had to do with the mask. Maybe he had to use a special tool or something to get the scaled metal shaped correctly?  


Eventually, Slenderman did return with the mask. The sheet of metal was now cut and shaped specifically to your facial features. Notches on the sides were cut to weave the elastic through later on. Eye holes were also cut through in their respective area. When your master handed the mask to you, there was lingering warmth within the metal. Part of you guessed that he had gone and heated it, which would explain how it had been shaped so easily. The mold was longer apparent; most likely useless now.  


Gesturing back to the table of your chosen accessories, Slenderman watched you expectantly. You complied, a newfound excitement filling your chest as you ran your design through you head again.  


After some odd hour or two, and plenty of helpful tools, you completed your mask. It was nothing short of tribal, yet with a twist of modern thrown in. The scales of the metal aimed down. Your eyes sockets were sealed with a thin black mesh to hide your eyes from victims. The nose bridge curved in straight angles, giving a sort of abstract serpent feature, which followed suit at the curve of your cheeks. The top of the nose was flat; making a straight surface that came to a sharp point just passed the tip of your nose. Along the bottom edges of the mask were the wolf teeth embedded on either side of the nose tip. They started with the canine fangs, and then followed with three molars spaced evenly.  


You grinned, looking around for a mirror to see yourself with the mask on. Slenderman was immediately at the door of the crafting room, closing it to reveal a full-length mirror mounted on it. You approached it without hesitation, fumbling to slip the mask onto your head and adjust it accordingly. Despite the black mesh over your eyes, you managed to see your reflection efficiently. You felt different with the mask on, though you couldn’t quite figure out how. Powerful? Maybe.  


“I suggest you change your attire to something humans will not recognize you in,” Slenderman spoke up. “Follow me.” He swung the door open, nearly smacking you in the face, but you stepped back just in time.  


After following your master a short distance down the hall, the two of you approached another room. Upon entering you found shelves and racks of miscellaneous clothes neatly folded and tucked away. “If you prefer to remain in your current clothes, I will not mind. Otherwise, I recommend that you cover yourself well. There are times when you will find yourself with little to keep your warm.” His words sank in quickly as you recalled how Hoodie and Ticci Toby both wore long-sleeved tops and pants. Masky had a jacket hanging near his bed in his room.  


Nodding in silent understanding, you considered your options. The summer heat had you wearing a t-shirt, which suited you fine, but would do practically nothing for you when winter comes along – or even when there would be a mission somewhere typically cold. Your black cargo pants seemed fine. They’d be useful for carrying supplies.  


“I’ll at least find a warm top to go over this,” you gestured to your t-shirt, to which Slenderman nodded.  


Hesitantly, you stepped forward and inspected the selection of clothes. You had already forgotten that your mask was still over your face, it fit you so perfectly. As your eyes scanned over your options, you considered the styles of winter clothes. Something dark would be preferred. Maybe a gray color? Or green? Hoodie wore yellow. Ticci Toby wore a gray-toned shirt. From the looks of Masky’s jacket, he wore brown or tan.  


Your fingers worked through the hanging tops on the racks, hangers screeching against the metal as they were forced from their rest to slide over. You glanced here and there, considering the colors and styles, not wanting to copy the other Proxies that you knew of. Part of you wanted something stylish, but another part of you argued that you needed something that would do its job keeping you alive.  


Not that you had many options, when it came to something flashy and “cool”. Most of the clothes in the room were basic, focusing on exactly what Slenderman recommended out of them. There were a few that had decent colors and patterns on them. Some that you had your eyes on were either too large or two small, and there weren’t really any multiples in sizes for most.  


Something tugged at the back of your mind, a thought that all of these clothes were collected from past victims of Slenderman (and maybe even the other Creepypasta residents).  


Finally, you did find something that both fit you and looked like it would serve you well.  


Amongst the incredibly compacted rack of clothes, your eyes land on a black leather trench coat. Upon touching its fabric, you find the leather to be thin and light, yet durable; it seemed well-used. You plucked the jacket from its place and held it out to examine, only to receive a deep chuckle from your master on his side of the room. You glanced at him, though couldn’t figure out the meaning behind his sudden reverberation of humor. Training your eyes back to the trench coat, you studied the gray belts that were secured to it; one belt around each upper arm, and three belts of descending widths around the chest, waist, and hips. There was a gap where the bottom of the coat’s zipper ended, leaving a window to the crotch and legs. Flipping the coat around, you found that the coat’s skirt was pleated on the back, adding some flair to it. You imagined how cool it would be for you to run with the coat on, its skirt flowing dramatically in the air draft. An amused sneer curled onto your lips.  


From the looks of it, the trench coat seemed about your size – maybe slightly larger – so you unstrapped the belts from their buckles and ran down the zipper, slipping it on. The lining of the coat was soothing and comfortable. It made you feel incredibly warm inside, but not so that you thought you might get overheated. The belts around your upper arms were just a tad too tight, so you loosened them a notch. After you zipped up the front of the coat, you began fiddling with the belts around your torso. This is when Slenderman approached you.  


“The last person to wear this was quite resourceful,” he remarked. “The belts,” Slenderman’s bony fingers pointed to your chest, “are removable so that you may manipulate them for your survival.” He then paused, an air of nostalgia forming around him. You watched your master curiously, wondering if he would talk more about the person who used to wear this trench coat. He did, though with a hint of sadness, “That man was quite the adversary; one of the few reasons why my existence has been recognized by the human race. I was almost reluctant to dispose of him.”  


A man once wore this? He must have been small, then, for a girl like you to wear it so comfortably. The coat’s skirt reached just below our knees, so he must have also been short. You gingerly fiddled with the belts, adjusting them here and there to decide on a fitted tightness. “Maybe I will live up to his standards,” you mentioned, and part of you immediately regretted it. As your mind thought over the phrase, you realized how treacherous it probably sounded to Slenderman. “I-I mean,” you stuttered nervously, “that maybe I could have all the skills he had, but use them to serve you.” A flustered chuckle bubbled in your throat. You were astonished that you hadn’t been strangled again.  


Slenderman hummed in thought at your words, his head tilted down in your direction. “That would be a most fascinating accomplishment, coming from one such as you.”  


You flinched, not sure if your master just insulted you. Instead of questioning it, you decided to shrug it off and move your arms around to test the sleeves and coat one more time. It really did fit you well. “I’ll keep this, if that’s okay,” you glanced at Slenderman, to which you received a nod. “I guess that’s all I really needed.”  


“Boots,” Slenderman stated.  


“Boots?” You looked down at your feet to see your worn out converse. The soles of them were coming off and the fabric was muddy and tattered. “Oh,” you muttered and looked around the room to find a corner full of various footwear – mostly work boots of sorts.  


You quickly stepped over to it, scanning the shelves of boots that reached from ceiling to floor. None of them were arranged in sizes, so you just had to check each one until you found a pair that should fit you. Many of the boots were built for men, and they ranged from brown to black colors. Few had laces, and if they did, the laces were only just long enough to be tied securely. You tried on a pair of black heavy-duty work boots with black laces. They seemed just slightly too big for you, but the laces helped to fix that. As you walked around to make sure the boots wouldn’t give you any trouble, you soon nodded in approval. These would do nicely, and the laces would add to the survival supply quirk you had going.  


Approaching a standing full-length mirror, you examined yourself again. You felt like some sort of Anonymous member, what with the mask and dark clothes. This had you grinning, knowing that this was far from what they aimed to do in human society.  


During your fascination with yourself, you hadn’t noticed your master approach you from behind. The feeling of his cold fingers sliding over your warm neck snapped you out of your thoughts and you focused on the tall being standing right behind you.  


Slenderman’s fingers trailed up to your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and look up to him as he loomed over your much smaller form. You forced away an urge to shiver, whether in fear or some sort of pleasurable sensation you weren’t quite sure. Slenderman was far too unpredictable to let your intuition make a decision.  


“What am I to you?” Your master’s voice rumbled from all around you. His stark white head tilted down to your gazing eyes, waiting for a reply.  


For a long moment, you weighed your options of what would be best to reply. At first, you didn’t know what to say, but memories of your first night as his Proxy came flashing back. The dominant air around him was all too evident, and now, you began to recognize that feeling once again. Gulping down the fear in your chest, you finally replied, “My master.”  


A pleased moan escaped Slenderman, the tips of his fingers running across the tender flesh of your neck. The cold sting of one finger breaking your skin had you frozen in place, if your master’s behavior wasn’t already doing that enough. You felt a small trickle of your blood run down your neck and absorb into your shirt.  


With your gaze still fixated on Slenderman’s looming head, you registered a curious sound of something moist ripping open to the sight of jagged lines beginning to appear on the white skin. A black grin formed on your master’s otherwise lacking face, and from within its depths a slimy black tongue slithered its way from between the sharp gaps. You watched on in horror as the tongue reached down passed your chin and made contact with your neck. It was surprisingly warm, but uncomfortably muculent. The length of the dark appendage slowly swiped over the cut on your neck, tasting your crimson liquid, and then quickly retracted to Slenderman’s head. His frightening mouth sealed back to its smooth and unmarked perfection as the grip on your shoulders from his long fingers released.  


Stepping back and strolling to exit the room as if nothing had happened, Slenderman said, “Your first mission is tomorrow morning. You will be ready to go and available in the front lobby by 4 AM.” He paused in mid-step at the door, “Do not be late,” then disappeared beyond into the hallway.  


You gazed at the doorway to the clothing room, awestruck at what had just happened. Subconsciously, you had raised your hand to feel over the cut on your neck. The ooze of your master’s slime had remained, though felt thin. When you inspected the area in the mirror, you were surprised to see no mark on your neck; no thin red line; no blood smear. Your eyebrows knitted together in thought, wondering if Slenderman had a healing power for his Proxies.  


If that were the case, then why wasn’t he healing Masky with it?  


Your curiosity soon became stumped, not even sure of all the possibilities Slenderman had with his saliva.  


Besides, what the hell is up with Slenderman’s fascination of you calling him “master”? Did he do this to his other Proxies? Maybe the guy has a fetish for being dominant over others? You shivered all the chilled feelings that had built up inside you as they were finally able to escape. Part of you was terrified at the thought that Slenderman had any sexual urges. Did he just sit in a room and satisfy himself, or did he use his Proxies to help that?  


Your blood ran cold at the thought of Slenderman using you for his bodily functions. Silently, you prayed that it would never happen and you were just overthinking things.  


You shook your head and exited the clothing room, closing the door behind you.  


It was time to ask your fellow Proxies some questions that were swirling through your head, so you tried to search for any of them. Even Masky was beginning to become an option as you unsuccessfully wandered the mansion halls on the first floor, but you figured it’d be best to leave him be. After what happened last time, you were convinced that he needed his rest.  


A raspy shriek pierced the air, jolting the hairs all over your body into alertness. With the chill running down your spine, something told you that this wasn’t a shriek of fear, but of fury. You whipped your head around in search of anyone rushing toward you, getting the sensation that you were doing to be attacked at any moment. So far, no one was around, but you felt the need to hide - anywhere.  


There was a closet nearby, its slated door closed and waiting to hide whatever was inside. You dashed to it just as you heard the stomping of hurried footsteps clashing with the tiles of the floor. As you slipped into the closet, you pressed yourself against the wall, find that there were cleaning supplies neatly placed at your feet. You held your breath, seeing the shadow of a figure pass by angrily. Unfortunately, you were too far back to see between the slates of the door, so you had no clue who had gone by. Either way, you were incredibly thankful that they didn’t notice you. You were too unfamiliar to every to be crossing their paths of fury safely.  


As soon as the stomping boots faded away and around a corner, you quietly pushed open the door and slipped back out, checking each way up and down the hall to make sure it was clear. You carefully closed the door behind you and lightly crept your way back to the mansion lobby, where you figured you would be safe. It was at least familiar territory.  


Rounding a corner, you bumped into a broad chest. You had immediately raised your arms for protections, so little harm was done to your mask.   


“Sorry! Sorry,” you apologized timidly, remembering how Jack said you would be bullied by just about everyone.  


When you looked up, you found the yellow fabric and red frown of Hoodie staring down at you. He didn’t say a word.  


Not sure what else to do, you stepped aside, thinking you might get pushed if you didn’t move soon.  


Hoodie continued walking, ignoring your presence.  


Then, you remembered that you needed to ask him something, since he was a fellow Proxy. “W-wait!” You reached out to Hoodie’s back, “I need to talk to you.” To your surprise, he actually stopped and turned around, staring at you expectantly.  


You cleared your throat, and adjusted your posture so not to look so afraid of him. “Does Slenderman treat his Proxies well? Or does he abuse us as he sees fit?”  


Hoodie stared at you for a long, awkward while. His unmoving form began to make you question if time had stopped around you or something. When you quirked a brow at him and stepped forward to inspect Hoodie’s form, he finally released a heavy sigh, one that hinted greatly at a weight he was being forced to carry. “Come with me,” he uttered.  


You didn’t hesitate to approach the Proxy’s side as he turned back around to continue wherever he was going to. Immediately, he began explaining the life you would come to know all too well.  


“He doesn’t trust any of your judgement right now, so don’t even bother making decisions of your own if you don’t have to,” Hoodie stated firmly. “Whatever Master tells you to do, you do it; whatever he tells you to think, you think it.” You bit your lip at this, worried if you would one day become brainwashed by Slenderman’s ideals. Hoodie went on to tell you how all of the Proxies started out this way. “As you can see, there aren’t many of us. We are the elite. If you can’t survive, then Master has no use for you.  


“Eventually, as you prove your loyalty, Master will give you chances to perform actions on your own.” Hoodie stopped at a door and placed his gloved hand over the brass handle. Before he opened the door, he said, “Don’t ever think that you need to prove your worth ahead of time – it’ll get you killed.” He then opened the door to reveal a room full of various weapons.  


There were guns and large knives mounted all along the walls. You swore you saw a rocket launcher, but you weren’t quite sure. Tool chests with numerous drawers stood in rows through the room, to which Hoodie approached the fourth one down and pulled a drawer open. “Master will never try to kill you as long as you follow his orders. He’s actually very protective of his property, but he’s not going to babysit you, either.”  


Property. The word stuck to you hard. You were property of someone – like a slave.  


Hoodie grabbed a small handful of metallic objects from the tool drawer and reached behind himself to pull out a black handgun from under his yellow top. He began loading bullets into the gun’s clip as though he had done it a thousand times – no doubt he had done it more than that.  


You nodded at your ally’s statements, finding some comfort that Slenderman didn’t outright abuse his Proxies. Still, one question lingered on your tongue, and you let it slip through your lips.  


“Does he,” you paused, feeling uncomfortable about your past experiences, “touch you in weird ways?”  


At that moment, Hoodie fumbled with the gun and bullets, dropping them onto the tool chest’s surface. His head whipped in your direction and you could feel the look of confusion that was surely plastered on his hidden face.  


Expecting that he needed further explanation, you cleared your throat and said, “Like, he gets close to me and makes me call him ‘master’.” You blushed at the memories of Slenderman’s strange behavior. “I don’t think he’s trying to molest me…” you trailed off at this point, noticing that Hoodie was still staring at you in shock. “What?”  


Hoodie slowly turned back to his gun, picking it and the remaining bullets up as he returned to loading them. “We’ll have to discuss that during our mission,” was all his replied. “Go find a weapon for tomorrow,” Hoodie gestured his head toward the general area as he snapped the gun shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're all caught up to where I am with writing this story, so you guys will be waiting as much as the other sites. hehe  
> I plan to write chapters longer (2k+ words), rather than combining for this site.  
> Figured I should mention that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weapons preparation, and a bit of exploration around the mansion, to which you learn about past Proxies of Slenderman. Also, Jeff and Ben are terrible house-mates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking forever to update, guys.  
> But, here you go!  
> The next chapter will be all about the mission!

As your eyes scanned over the weapons room again, you thought over what you had experience with – which was a kitchen knife. All these powerful weapons, and you had hardly a clue how to use them. Hesitantly, you made your way over to the numerous variations of knives that were neatly mounted on a wall. Others were arranged by size and function on a table just below. Machetes and hunting knives were a common thing in the display; Swiss Army pocket knives were also available; you even saw a few butterfly knives, to which you smirked to yourself at the thought of flipping one around your hands like a pro.  


By this point, Hoodie had walked over to your side. He had suspected as much that you were practically a novice with weapons. Part of him wondered what 

Slenderman saw in you when you first arrived, but he kept those thoughts to himself.  


“I recommend a hunting knife – preferably with a serrated edge,” Hoodie broke the silence as he shoved his handgun into the back of his pants. “Not only is it good for fighting, but efficient when you need to cut rope and wires.” Flashbacks of his few instances of getting captured and tied up entered the man's head. He quickly learned through those experiences to keep a hunting knife on hand during any mission.  


You went to reach out for a hunting knife, then noticed the variety of serrated edges. Some were on the blades' spines, others on the belly. There were even varying depths in the serrations. You quickly settled to grabbing a large knife with a deeply serrated belly near the hilt. There was black leather sheath to slip into, which also had attachments for looping onto your pants.  


Rather than hooking the knife and sheath to your pants, you liked the idea of slipping them into the inside of your trench coat. Your eyes quickly scanned the room again for other weapon options. It’d be a good idea to get something for medium to long range, so you spotted the wall full of handguns. Hoodie followed you over.  


You knew only so much about guns – the basics, really. You know about the kick that resulted from firing the gun, and that there were different styles for different purposes. Generally, though, the handguns were not your forte, and Hoodie quickly recognized this. He sighed, shaking his head just a bit, and said, “You’re probably not used to kicks, so let’s start with something that has minimal strength.” He reached out and grabbed a small, stubby handgun. “This is the Ruger SR 22. It has practically no kick, is easily concealable, and is easy to maintain,” Hoodie held the gun to you so that you could inspect it. “We’ll work with you on this one today, and you might also use it for the mission tomorrow.” Plucking up the silencer attachment that was laying in the same spot as the gun, Hoodie handed that to you, too. “You’ll almost always want a silencer on a mission. It attracts less attention, but you’ll have to practice getting it attached and firing as quickly as possible. The silencer makes the gun harder to conceal when they’re already put together.”  


Nodding every so often to ensure Hoodie that you were listening, you played with the gun and silencer in your hands. They weren’t all that heavy, which would help you work up your accuracy a bit faster. Eventually, you’d like to use the heavier, more powerful guns, but this would have to do for the time being.  


After Hoodie showed you were the required bullets for the gun were, and educated you on loading it, he brought you outside of the mansion. You were lead beyond the patio, and near the edge of the yard. There were glass bottles and used cans of various sorts scattered around – some broken, others still intact. It was there that Hoodie gave you a quick rundown of how to aim and shoot your gun; taking the safety on and off; attaching the silencer.  


It was no secret that you weren’t a professional at any of this. The first several tries had you making your fair share of mistakes. Three hours later, though, you were able to at least hit your taken more than half of the time. You would sometimes fumble with the silencer and gun when practicing the entire motion of pulling them out of your jack and setting them up and then firing. Still, Hoodie figured you at least acceptable for the upcoming mission.  


“I’m more concerned with you not killing your teammates,” Hoodie’s words ingrained into your head.  


Considering that you were a newbie, the rest of the Proxies understood that you weren’t going to be getting the kill, nor would you be completely reliable on the first few missions. This was all for experience. You were there to learn the procedures and serve as an extra body (the victims often felt much more panicked with each extra Proxy on site).  


The moment Hoodie closed your little training session, you turned to him and asked, “What’s the mission, anyway?”  


“We’ll all be briefed tomorrow morning,” Hoodie didn’t bother to wait on you as he walked back toward the mansion.  


You stood there for a few minutes, watching the yellow-clad man until he disappeared beyond the patio doors. You were lost in your own thoughts, part of you running fears in your mind as you slowly began to accept that you would be going on your first mission very soon.  


4 AM  


“Ugh,” you groaned at the thought of having to wake up at an ungodly hour. It’d probably be best to get to bed early tonight.  


You estimated that it was about one or two in the afternoon, so you decided to wander the mansion grounds for a bit. The last time you had been out here, you were being drugged and chased. Not quite pleasant, so this would be a nice change of pace.  


It took you a while to get from the very back of the mansion to one of its sides. Most of the view so far consisted of the bright orange and yellow leaves and dull grass. The walls of the mansion were littered with winding vines that climbed high up. From what you could see, the building was nothing short of a typical horror story haunted mansion.  


The moment you rounded the first corner, you paused mid-step as your eyes took in the sight of an old, overgrown garden. Not a flower garden, mind you, but a vegetable garden. Rows and rows of weed-covered mounds, leaving scars in the earth where someone had so patiently tended to their crops. You approached the garden, inspecting the mounds to see if there was anything actually producing food. If it was, you could use it to stock up the kitchen, seeing as it lacked much variety.  


“A shame, isn’t it?” The milky voice of your master sounded around you, to which you whipped around in surprise. Slenderman was standing behind you, hands gingerly clasped behind his back. “I was quite impressed with this garden. A former Proxy of mine had tended to it.” He stepped forward, looking down at the inedible vegetation.  


“If you don’t mind me asking,” you started out quietly, but your voice grew bolder with each word, “what happened to that Proxy?”  


“Killed on a mission,” Slenderman stated bluntly. “He was a vegan, as it’s called. I permitted him to grow his own garden, seeing no harm in it. Much less trouble than travelling around and scavenging for food.” Your master paused for a moment, perhaps in a moment of reverence, though you doubted it. After a few moments, he continued, “I believe the human phrase is: ‘he had quite the green thumb’. This garden flourished well.”  


Casting a glance up to Slenderman, you wondered why he didn’t bother continuing the garden. Maybe he didn’t find much use for it, aside from feeding the other residents, but they seemed to prefer fending for themselves. Their diets also didn’t seem to consist of much foods on the healthier side. “May I have your permission to use the garden?” You hoped the Tall One didn’t have too much partiality toward it or the Proxy that started the produce bed.  


With a single nod and the turn of his head to gesture that he was eying you, Slenderman replied, “You do have my permission. I’m certain Masky and Hoodie would appreciate it.”  


Part of you was frozen in awe that your master was seeming friendlier than when you first met him. He also seemed far more civilized and composed than his strange episodes of dominance that he had so far. Your orbs gazed up to him, a sparkle of happiness gleaming from within. “I, uh,” you shook your head out of your faint thoughts of appreciation, “I guess the next thing I should ask is where I can find the supplies.”  


Raising his long arm and pointing a lanky finger, Slenderman steered you in the correct direction to an obvious nearby shed. It looked awfully run down, causing a pitying cringe to contort on your face. Still, you thanked your master and excused yourself to go take a look in the shed. As you walked across the yard, you chuckled to yourself at how you were so quickly picking up on your manners.  


The shed door creaked open, flakes of dried paint fluttering off as it moved for the first time in God knows how long. You found that the inside of the shed was not at all clean and orderly like the inside of the mansion. Rather, it was dusty and cluttered. You took note that you might have to start your gardening project with the task of organizing the tool shed.  


So, you did. You spent the next two hours organizing rakes, shovels, plows, hoes, and various other items that had been collected over the years. You had found a plastic storage box full of vegetable seed pouches. There were even soybeans. With the storage box keeping in good shape and being air-tight, the seeds were still in usable condition. After cleaning and sorting everything to your liking, you realized that you hadn’t found a single power tool to make things easier on you. Even tilling the dirt was going to be all manual labor. You sighed, trying to find the brighter side of the situation, which you did. At least all this hard work would help increase your strength and stamina.  


It wasn’t until you dusted off your hands and plucked up the large manual tiller that you noticed Slenderman standing just outside the shed doorway. You squeaked with surprise, sincerely not expecting him to be there, watching you do all that cleaning. “Um,” you gripped the tiller close to you, not sure if your master was trying to corner you inside the small building, “I need to get out so I can start prepping the garden soil.” A sheepish grin spread over your lips, looking up at your master with pleading eyes.  


Slenderman stepped aside, watching you closely as you passed him and made your way to the old garden area. He seemed exceptionally curious about what you were doing. Did he enjoy watching humans go about their daily lives? Or maybe there was something about cleaning and organizing that fascinated him? You tried to ignore his presence, feeling incredibly awkward now.  


For a few minutes, you had to figure out just how to use a tiller. You hadn’t quite spent all that much time growing a garden as a human, but you knew the process. Using the tools was a different story. The tiller actually required quite a bit of strength, especially with the overgrown grass and weeds. Maybe it would have been easier to pull them out by hand? You shrugged and went about ripping the dirt and plants with the spiked wheels at the end of the tiller. An amused smirk formed on your lips as you began thinking about how interesting the tool would be as a weapon. You began imagining the ground as many faces of your old enemies, the metal spikes puncturing and churning their flesh and bones. After a bit of that fantasy, you had to stop and vocally let out a quick laugh. The idea of a gardening tool being used that way just seemed funny to you.  


“Quite the imagination you have, considering your hesitance down in the torture room,” Slenderman’s voice echoed around you.  


Turning your head to look at your master, you gave his words thought. He was right. When you were ordered to torture that innocent boy, you had such a hard time. Now, you were thinking of ways to kill people with random objects. Still, they were people you actually had a beef with, so it shouldn’t be all that surprising. “Maybe it’s just something I’ve been suppressing?” You shrugged, and then went back to tilling.  


Churning the garden soil took far much longer than you anticipated. By the time you finished and went to put up the tiller, Slenderman stopped you. “I suggest you begin preparing yourself for tomorrow. Clean yourself, nourish and hydrate your body, rest. I do not appreciate Proxies who cannot maintain themselves.” At this, you nodded in understanding and closed up the shed. Slenderman disappeared as soon as your back was turned.  


Getting a bit of something to eat and drink was easy enough. Taking a nice shower was also a simple task. You dusted off and wiped down your clothes and mask so they wouldn’t be too dirty for the mission tomorrow. In hindsight, you probably should have changed into something else before doing all that gardening, but oh well. Things were quite peaceful within the mansion, that is, until you laid yourself down and curled up in your bed.  


You were just started to drift off to sleep when you heard a shriek of terror or pain or something terrible. The voice had you shoot upright in your bed, staring at your closed door to the hallway. If it wasn’t for the profuse cursing that followed all that screaming, you would have been Scooby-Dooing it down the staircase. You came to realize that it was Jeff and Ben fighting again.  


There was really nothing you could do about the racket. Jeff and Ben didn’t have much respect for you, nor did they really fear you. All you could do was lay back down and cover your head with layers of pillows in an attempt to block out the chaos of noise from beyond your room. They didn’t help much.  


The majority of the night consisted of you zoning in and out of consciousness as your sleep was repeatedly interrupted by yelling, banging, and crashing. At some point, you thought you heard Ticci Toby get in on the action. Things went quiet pretty quickly at that point, and so did you mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The mission is a go!

The wailing of your banshee-like alarm jolted you awake; hell, you nearly tumbled out of your bed as you scrambled within the confines of your covers to smash the OFF button. Only after you reached your goal did you regain normal hearing. The faint thumps of footsteps outside of your room told you that your teammates were already awake and getting ready for the mission today.  


You tossed your covers back on to the bed, not bothering with making them neat or anything, and groggily stumbled to your armoire. There you found your Proxy costume and mask, waiting to be adorned once more. Problem is: you didn't remember hanging your gear before bed – rather, you had simply tossed it all to the floor and collapsed on your bed that night. _Someone_ had been in your room while you were sleeping. You had a sneaking suspicion that it was your master, since he had a quirk for being tidy.  


Shrugging it off, you quickly slipped on your pants, shirt, coat, and mask. You fixed your hair as best you could to keep it from hindering you during missions, then shoved on your boots. Patting yourself down, you found that your knife and gun were tucked away in your coat pockets.  


Perfect.  


You gave yourself a single, firm nod, then exited your room and met everyone downstairs in the lobby. There, you found Slenderman standing just in front of the main doors to the mansion. Toby and Hoodie had their backs to you, facing your master. You joined the team, stepping in between Toby and Hoodie, and looked up to Slenderman as you waited for your briefing.  


No time was wasted, as Slenderman began, “There is a human who goes by the name Gerald Macky. His is proficient in computer technology and has a fascination with antique film recording. Gerald has been on my trail for quite some time now, and has managed to gather dangerous amounts evidence concerning our existence. We must dispose of him and his records.  


“Fortunately, Gerald lacks intimidating physical strength, so once you reach him, you should be capable of taking him down with ease. I would do this myself; however Gerald has constructed some form of technology that disturbs my frequencies at a radial distance – find it and destroy it.”  


“Gerald Macky, frequency device, evidence,” Hoodie listed for the team to make note of.  


Ticci Toby clasped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation, “Sounds like b-burning the place down will d-do the trick.”  


“Not this time,” Slenderman replied firmly. “Since ____ is attending her first mission, I recommend a clean sweep. The evidence and device will be gathered, brought back here, and then disposed of.”  


Hoodie nodded, “The device will have to be completely disabled.” He then turned to Toby, “If you can take care of Gerald, and I'll do that.” Toby nodded, turning to you just as Hoodie then did so he could ask you, “Your job is to find the collection of film evidence and get it to the rendezvous point.”  


Nodding, mostly because you didn't want to argue on your first mission, you accepted your instructions. “Where exactly is that point?”  


“Here.” Slenderman's tendrils lashed out and made contact with Toby, Hoodie, and yourself. They didn't wrap around your throats or produce any harm, but rather tapped the three of you long enough for their intention to follow through. The scenery and atmosphere around you changed almost instantly. You had to blink hard a few times to help your mind register what had just happened. This was just like last time before that fight.  


Glancing around, you found that all four of you had been Slender-walked to an empty alley in the suburbs of some city. It was night here (Or still ridiculously early?), so the small amount of moonlight that bounced off the walls, accompanied by street lights in the distance, were all that aided your vision. You took note of your surroundings so that you could find your way back later.  


Slenderman's voice began to instruct again, “Gerald Macky's residence is one block from here. He lives in apartment 224. I'm afraid I have no further information.” He pointed in the general direction of the apartment complex. “I highly recommend that you use caution with this one.”  


You were ready to turn and chase after Toby and Hoodie, but they still didn't move. As you looked between the three of them with uncertainty, you felt a strange discomfort within your head. The sensation was difficult for you to understand. Invasive, perhaps? It didn't take long for you to understand why you felt that way, because your master's voice whispered in your mind as ghostly as your very thoughts. Without quite registering these whispers as words or sentences, you abruptly understood that Slenderman would only hold this mental connection up until they reached the frequency device's range limit. After that, he would reconnect with the three of you as soon as it was disabled.  


Hoodie turned on his heel and took off first, quickly followed by Ticci-Toby. You whipped around, staring after your teammates as you fearfully accepted that the mission had truly begun, then chased after them.  


The streets were virtually empty, save for the pair of drunks much further down. You were sure that it was early morning here, which meant that Slenderman's dimension and this time zone in the human world have similar, if not exact, synchronizations. People would be waking up within the next hour or so; mostly those who have to go into work at ridiculous hours in the morning, the poor things. It was crucial that your team finish the mission within that time limit.  


Toby and Hoodie reached the apartment complex, to which Toby continued through the halls and up the stairs to reach the door. Hoodie waited for you, looking over shoulder. The moment that you reached the complex you noticed the disappearance of your master’s invasive mental prying. "Follow me," Hoodie stated before dashing around the building. You complied without a word.  


Unbeknownst to you, Hoodie had sufficient knowledge of how apartments were laid out. He had a pretty good idea where the target's window would be, so he made is way there. You were informed that the two of you would be climbing, to which you cringed at the thought.  


Hoodie's abrupt halt around a corner had you nearly bumping into him, but you caught yourself. He was craning his neck back, staring up toward a third-floor window expectantly. All of the windows in the complex were dark - some covered in tinfoil to block out prying eyes or the sun. You were about to ask Hoodie what he was waiting for, but he seemed to predict this and quickly held up a gloved finger to shush you. He mumbled something under his breath; perhaps and urge to Toby to hurry up with whatever he was doing inside the apartment.  


A quick flash of light from the window directly above the two of you emitted for a split second. It was then that you realized just how well Hoodie knew apartment design - he'd done this one too many times. There was no hesitation between the moments that the interior light flashed and Hoodie began to scale up the wall of the apartments. Luckily for the both of you, there were plenty of electrical sheathes and decorative ledges to make a possible, though challenging, climb to the target window.  


The window was quietly slid open with only the hushed hiss of its railing breaking the silence. Hoodie slipped into the apartment, leaving you to climb up on your own, though he and Toby waited to make sure that you made it in without screwing up. You were huffing and puffing, not used to climbing steep walls; part of you was embarrassed of your unsteadiness after seeing that your teammates weren't even out of breath, despite yourself. Your entrance through the window was impressive to you, though, as you were able to get through without catching on anything or making a ruckus.  


With the three of you standing together in a close circle, you were about to utter a question of what to do next, as you had no clue where to begin searching for the film, but Toby held up a hand to stop you. He pointed to a door behind himself, which was cracked open just a bit. A dim, white light of some sort radiated from beyond that door. You could hear the hum of a computer running from that direction, too. Toby then brought his hands to the side of his head, tilting it a bit, to imitate the position of sleeping. Hoodie nodded at this, and you quickly understood what Toby had meant, so you nodded as well. Again, Toby pointed in another direction, which was to each corner of the room the three of you were currently in. Within these corners, you could see tiny red lights, to which you registered as cameras watching all of you. Your heart sank a bit, but then you remembered that your mask would hide your identity rather well. Again, you and Hoodie nodded at Toby to confirm that you understood what he was informing you of.  


Hoodie then pointed at himself in a questioning manner. He was hoping for any clues of where the frequency device may be, but Toby only shrugged and shook his head; however, Toby pointed at you, then averted his aim to a door on the opposite end of the room. This door was also ajar, though left wide open. Toby must have done a thorough search through the apartment before letting you and Hoodie inside. You nodded, to which all three of you split up to attend to your assigned tasks - Toby to the bedroom, you to the storage room, and Hoodie to anywhere he suspected the device might be hidden.  


It was nerve-racking how ghostly your team moved around the apartment. Your heart was racing, excited and terrified that anything could go wrong at any moment – not because you doubted Toby or Hoodie, but because you doubted yourself. You’d been sneaky with the students during your mini-massacre at your old high school, but you had much less cover from nearby people. Through mentioning of old friends you used to have, you had learned that apartment walls tended to be thin, thus the neighbors could easily hear moderate to loud noises. If you weren’t worried that Gerald Macky would hear one of you scuttling around his home, then you were certain that one notable mistake would alert his neighbors – if they woke up from it.  


Upon entering the storage room, your hand automatically felt around near the door frame for the light switch, but you paused in realization of how much of a bad idea that would be. There were no windows in this room, and the air was utterly black. You decided to flick on the light just long enough for you take in the room contents, then switched off the light within the span of a second.  


With that brief illumination, you registered the fact that the light was a deep red. Within the room, you had noticed a sink along the far wall. Above that sink were numerous square objects that you assumed were photographs pin along a line. Near you, against the wall to your left, you had the fleeting glance of filing cabinets that lined the space. They looked to be heavily used. Some old film canisters were even stacked on top of the cabinets.  


Since the dimness of the red light wouldn’t be too noticeable, you decided to turn it back on. You would need it to find _all_ of the evidence you had to gather. A tug in your gut feared that you would need to gather all there was in the room. At that thought, you realized that you would require far more than just your arms and coat pockets to carry everything, so you began looking for backpacks or spare pillow cases, even spare blankets, that might be stored away in the room somewhere. There were none, however, so you had to search the apartment.  


The very second your foot crossed the doorway into the living room, you heard a struggle coming from Ticci Toby's assignment – the bed room. Hoodie was nowhere to be found. You froze, staring straight to the bedroom doorway, your heart racing. During the long moments of thumps and grunts, questions ran through your mind: Would Toby emerge victorious? Would Gerald come rushing through that door and attack you, too? Should you be helping Toby?  


No, wait.  


You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. After convincing yourself that Toby was a veteran Proxy and he could take care of himself, you looked around the living room and found a throw-blanket lazily draped over the sofa. You lunged for it, snatching the fabric from its resting place and dashed back into the storage room just as you heard a solid _chop_ behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. I take forever. Sorry about that. School is kicking my butt. Good news is, I'm catching up on artwork that I need to get done, so I can actually focus on writing more when that's done. I'll be closing art commissions and requests, etc so that I can focus on writing during my breaks between classes at school.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to your first mission. You also see some more of Slender's bipolar tendencies (though I don't diagnose him as bipolar).

You were frozen for a few short moments, registering in your mind if that single chop behind you was from Toby or the victim - you hoped the prior. Your current mission was in front of you, though, so you quickly stepped over to the cabinets and shelves of film and began shoving the contents that looked important into your makeshift sack. There were tons of different photographs and film reels dedicated to evidence of Slenderman and his Proxies. You couldn't carry them all. Instead, you quickly scanned through the tabs and labels, deducting each out of what seemed most hindering to your master. Some photos were crystal clear of the tall being, but most were borderline satisfactory. You took only the focused images, knowing how people rarely took UFO sightings seriously because of how recorded "evidence" was always blurry.  


Not once did you hear the footsteps approaching you from the doorway. The flapping and fluttering and crunching of manila folders filled your ears as you tried your best to assume what was important to Slenderman. The thick smell of blood wafted into your nostrils soon after the hushed clunking of boots stopped nearby. You didn't acknowledge any of this until Toby's voice startled you out of your focus, "You're s-still not done?"  


Nearly dropping your increasingly heavy sack of film, you pursed your lips in irritation of Toby's lack of patience and understanding. "I'm making the best of it. There's too much to take it all."  


"Where's Hoodie?" Toby seemed to ignore your explanation. He probably was just teasing you, anyway, since your situation was pretty obvious. His head swiveled slowly from side to side as he examined the dark room, waiting on your reply.  


You were sifting through files and photos again, one hand's fingers crawling across the numerous sheets, the other tightly clutching the blanket together. "I haven't seen him since we split up," you answered.  


Toby shifted in the doorway, "Gerald's been t-taken care of. F-finish up here. We'll b-be back t-to get you." He didn't even bother waiting for your hum of acceptance to his command before rushing off down the hall.  


Finding the frequency device must have been more challenging than the others anticipated. You're blanket-sack was already over half-full; you doubted you would be able to get everything on your own. Heck, you'd most likely need a separate form of storage - a backpack would be nice. How long should you wait for your teammates before trying to escape the apartment on your own? Were you supposed to just wait there indefinitely? Your brows furrowed in thought as you tried to consider your options and sort through the film and photos.  


This Gerald guy was seriously obsessed with bringing Slenderman to light. You wondered what kind of history he had with your master. Surely something traumatic happened, else he wouldn't be this interested. The idea to question either Slenderman or one of the Proxies about it entered your mind, but you quickly dismissed it, knowing that your master would have explained it if he wanted to.  


Your blanket was just about full when you heard police sirens wailing just within your ears’ reach. At first, you didn’t notice, but they soon register in your mind that they could very much likely be coming for you. How did they know? Did Gerald Macky have a trigger setup in case someone broke into his apartment?  


It was with that thought you gave up on finding further evidence of your master and gathered your makeshift sack, heaving it over your shoulder. It was much heavier than you anticipated, but you managed to stumble your way to the window you and your team had entered from. You slid open the window, securing it to stay up, and began securely tying the blanket corners so they wouldn’t splay open upon impact to the ground. Just as you were beginning to shove the sack through the window, a deep, commanding voice sounded around you, “Stop, ____”.  


You turned, still gripping the sack, to see Slenderman reaching out to you with a long hand. Upon contact with your shoulder, the surrounding walls and floor were changed to the orange and black forest you now knew as home. Ticci-Toby and Hoodie were nearby, waiting on further orders. Slenderman retracted his hand from you and held open his palm, expecting you to hand him the sack.  


“What happened?” You didn’t mean to just blurt it out, but the confusion and panic was still on your face, pulsing through your veins. Part of you stressed that you had don’t something wrong. Still, you heaved the sack of film and photos to your master’s hand, waiting for an answer from someone.  


Hoodie spoke up after a short moment, almost ashamed of what he was about to tell you. “The frequency device wasn’t where we anticipated it to be. After searching the apartment, I realized that the complex had a single source of wireless internet, and that’s where Gerald had planted the device. I had to break in to the landlord’s office. The wifi modem had a tampering alarm on it, but I managed to disable Gerald’s device so master could get us out of there.”  


To this, Slenderman nodded, “It was a variable I had considered. No mistakes were made this mission. I congratulate the three of you.”  


No mistakes? But you knew well that you hadn’t gathered all of the evidence, and that stung at your chest. You swallowed nervously, then shot up your hand as though you were back in school and waiting to be called on by the teacher. This gesture earned you strange looks from your teammates and master. Still, you waited for permission to speak.  


“I already know this isn’t the entirety of the evidence,” Slenderman shrugged his arm that held the sack you had given him. “However, this is still a significant dent in Gerald Macky’s work. I intend to have BEN incinerate the apartment once the lawmen have settled and dispersed.”  


“But,” you hesitated to ask, not sure if questioning your master’s motives was a good idea, “but then why did I need to get the evidence at all if you were going to burn it all anyway?”  


Slenderman raised his head, looking as though he were vexed by your question, though he tried to suppress it. Tilting his head back down to imitate eying you, the tall being answered, “The lawmen will be searching the apartment for any possible answers to Gerald Macky’s death. They will find some of the evidence, but not all. Your part in the mission has decreased the chances of the humans finding clear evidence of our existence. Though the lawmen will not be retrieving evidence from the crime scene until thirty-seven minutes from now, the probability of such evidence being discovered had significantly decreased, thus biding me time. I was unable to perform any of this prior to the mission due to the frequency device.”  


You bit your lip, quickly thinking of other ways Slenderman could have gone about this, but figured he had his reasons – perhaps even some that he simply didn’t want to explain to you. At that, you nodded in acceptance to your master’s justification.  


“The three of you are no longer required,” Slenderman stated. “You may retreat to the mansion until further notice.” Toby and Hoodie nodded in silence before strolling away to clean up. You began to follow, but your master placed a firm hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “I recommended that you refrain from questioning my motives again. You are my Proxy, my tool, and you do as I say without question. If your disobedience occurs again, I will not hesitate to punish you.”  


Your blood ran cold. Slenderman was letting your questioning slide this one time, probably because the mission was successful. You slipped out of this mistake, but next time wouldn’t be guarantee much luck. Gulping down a ball of spit to moisten your dry throat, you nodded in acceptance and replied to your master, “Thank you. I won’t forget my place.” The large, bony hand lifted from your shoulder. Before you could turn your head, Slenderman was gone.  


A nap sounded good right now, but first, you needed to find a way to relax after that rush of adrenaline. In fact, your body was beginning to feel weak from that climb up the apartment building wall – you certainly weren’t used to that. Even your fingers ached a bit from the strain.  


Would it be safe to relax on the living room couch? Was Ben even there on his game? It was a shame that you felt so threatened in your new home, but this wasn’t he average home. You risked a peek into the living room, seeing that the television was off and no one in sight. Maybe you could watch some shows? Did the mansion even have cable?  


Tiredly plopping down on the large sofa, you quickly found the remote and powered up the large television in front of you. It wasn’t long before you figured out how to use the remote, and you switched the TV from its AUX mode to regular channels. Most of them had static and incoherent sounds – very little video. This went on in various ways until you reached a Channel 21. Here, both video and audio were as crisp as the producer put out. You paused your channel surfing to take in what exactly was going on with the show.  


It was a strange show; something that looked like it was made for children, but the quality was poor. The currently airing show was of some mascot bear chatting with awkwardly tense children. If there was any trace of acting skills within the characters, you didn't see it. The bear character, who you soon learned was called "Mr. Bear", was the only one who seemed happy about whatever was going on. The children seemed frightened, nervous about what might happen next.  


When the show ended, you were left with mixed feelings of confusion and disgust. Something told you that those children were with the costumed man against their will, and this had you fearing what happened to them once the show ended.  


"Fascinating, isn't he?" The smooth, deep voice of your master surrounded your head. It was then that you noticed the lanky mass that was reclining in the sofa next to you. Your startled expression seemed to amuse the Slenderman, though he held his eyeless gaze toward the television screen that was now emitting a rainbow of lines and a steady treble tone. "He successfully entices children to visit his lair with a crude form of entertainment. Then, he doesn't even use the children as sustenance when he no longer desires their life forces."  


You watched your master's pale head stare ahead of himself as though something interesting was actually playing on the TV screen. An air of hilarity floated around him. You dared ask the question that was echoing within your mind, "W-what happens to them?"  


"He burns them," Slenderman nonchalantly replied. "Alive, of course."  


Memory of the sensation you felt when Ben had set you aflame washed over you. "Oh," was all you could say.  


"I prefer not to play with my food. This has hindered my knowledge of the human youth, however."  


"There's not that much to know about them," you blurted out, immediately regretting your choice of action when Slenderman turned his head toward you.  


For a few tense moments, the two of your stared at each other expectantly. Your master was the one to break the silence when he said, "I assume you plan to elaborate on your statement."  


A brief expression of surprise flashed over your face, but you released a deep breath of relief. From there, you did as suggested. "Well, children like toys and games," you shrugged. "You could even offer them candy and they'd be wrapped around your finger. There are some kids out there who are just plain terrified of other people, but it usually doesn't take long to get on their good side, if you make all the right moves." As you explained what you knew about children and their gullible ways, you watched Slenderman's still form soak in every bit of information. You had a pretty good feeling that he had been dealing with shrieking children for many centuries, and the possibility of him not having to deal with that while trying to eat was all he needed to motivate his interest.  


As you were finishing up your short lecture about how to befriend a human child, a deep yawn escaped your lips. You silently cursed Ben and Jeff for keeping you awake so late last night. It was then that you remembered your original plan to take a nap. Before you could excuse yourself, Slenderman gracefully stood from the sofa and strolled his long legs to a bookshelf. He plucked an old, thick book from one of the shelves and returned to his seat next to you. "Rest without worry, ____. You have earned my protection for a short while." Slenderman cracked open the heavily used literature and made himself comfortable for a long read.  


For a few moments, you blinked in shock, seeing a strangely softer side to your master. Before you could question him, another yawn slipped from you. To this, you took off you mask and placed it on the side table. You then turned in your spot on the sofa, your head resting on the arm of the furniture, and laid back without making physical contact with Slenderman. He probably didn't want your dirty boots on his good suit. As you slowly relaxed, you watched the faceless being read in silence, not minding your presence. Your eyes grew heavy, and soon they were fluttering shut as you drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to leave a comment!  
> Did anyone catch the Creepypasta reference?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet sweet violence. ;3

You were rudely awoken by a sharp pain in your lower abdomen. At first, you were still dreaming, registering the pain as a cramp in your intestines for whatever reason; the dream gradually ended and your blurry eyes focused on the ceiling of the mansion's living room. The pain wasn't going away. In fact, it was increasing! Hot blood trickled down your side and you tilted your head down to find Eyeless Jack cutting into your abdomen with his scalpel. The built-up tension in your body finally released, and you let out a terrified shriek.  


Unfortunately, Eyeless Jack was watching you intently, knowing you would wake up. He raised his scalpel to your throat, leaning in close as he stared you down with his deep, dark eye sockets. "You ate my kidney jam," his growled. "That's mine!So, now you need to replace what you stole." Jack's free hand plunged a pair of fingers into the incision at your lower stomach. The wriggling of his searching fingers instantly stung your nerves and twisted your stomach. You let out another cry, tears now escaping the corners of your eyes. You tried to struggle, but Jack pressed the tip of his scalpel ever closer to your neck. As the fingers dug deeper, your felt them find their target and wrap around the kidney. You tried to prepare yourself for the inevitable yank of your organs that was to come.  


In an instant, Eyeless Jack was propelled away from you and into the wall just below the television. Said television was disturbed from its perch and collapsed onto the darkly dressed man's crumpled body. Sparks spat from the electronic devices associated with the set-up. You stared in awe at the resulting mess, not yet acknowledging the growling predator hunched above you from behind the sofa. It was only when a transparent dark liquid dripped onto your chest did you notice who had saved you, but by the look of him, you weren't so sure you wanted to stick around.  


It was Slenderman, but his features were far more intimidating - horrific. From your view below his crouched form, you saw the bulging of veins in his neck and head. The usually softer features of his lacking face were far more apparent, as though his skin had greatly tightened around his skull. Slenderman's mouth was now gaping wide, the edges various and jagged like ripped paper. From that mouth, you saw the dark drool that seeped out. A deep, territorial growl rumbled from the being's chest, and you noticed the claw-like fingers that gripped the back of the sofa, ready to pounce. Black tendrils waved around behind Slenderman, dancing like snakes ready to strike. Not once did your master look to you. He was focused on Eyeless Jack's groaning form across from him.  


The broken television moved as Jack stirred underneath it, trying to regain clear thoughts and get the hefty object off of him. There was a defined depression in the wooden wall where he had collided. You wondered just how hard Slenderman had hit him to cause that. Considering that Jack was still alive after the impact, you knew that these Creepypastas were far more durable than you originally assumed.  


Eyeless Jack pushed the television away and weakly raised his body to a stand. His head tilted up just enough to acknowledge Slenderman, though it remained low enough to indicate reservation. “Tell your pets to stay out of my food, Slenderman,” Eyeless Jack growled.  


A powerful hiss whipped through the being above you, his body puffing and crouching far more like an animal than anything sophisticated. Without the movement of his ajar mouth, Slenderman's voice growled fiercely in response, “How many times must I admonish you from damaging my Proxies?” Another thick hiss filled your ears. “I require them at total physical capacity.”  


“It's just one request!” Eyeless Jack clenched his fists, challenging the landlord of the mansion. He then directed his view to you, pointing his accusing finger right at you, “Stay out of my food, you little-” Jack threat was interrupted by your master's lunging form.  


You hurt grunting, hissing, growling; clothes ripped here and there, the cracking of fallen electronic devices under the Creepypastas' shifting weight jabbed your ears. Shelves where knocked and you were nearly slammed in to a few times. This was the last place you wanted to be right now, so you tried to crawl over the back of the sofa, but the damaged muscle in your lower abdomen hindered your movement. Still, your desperation to get out of harm's way was far more powerful, and adrenaline was coursing through your veins. You pulled yourself just over the head of the sofa, then swung a leg over, cringing at the burning pain of your damaged muscle. Just as you were about to slide over, the wrestling pair behind you slammed into the sofa. This impact, combined with your weight in the momentum of its directed force, sent the sofa falling back, and you went tumbling to the floor.  


There was a muffled crunch just beyond the now toppled sofa, followed by a horrific scream. You pushed yourself up on one arm, trying to keep pressure on your wound with the other. Things went silent as the scream was cut short. Not even the sound of a struggle continued on. You strained your ears to listen for any sign of either Jack or Slender, though you mostly hoped for your master.  


When there was still no indication of either Creepypasta, you began trying to pick yourself up to stand. As you leaned forward, a splash of fresh blood fell to the hard floor. You cursed to yourself, only now noticing how much blood you had already lost. Your lips parted to begin calling out for Hoodie or Ticci Toby for help, but the sudden motion of the sofa returning to its natural position startled you.  


As your whipped your head to where your master and Eyeless Jack had disappeared, you found Slenderman standing victorious. His black tendrils were shrinking away to his back, his claws were dulling down, and the flesh around his face was filling, softening to a less monstrous appearance. Even his mouth was sealing closed again. You noticed his crimson red tie was now askew and damaged, which was minute to the condition of his suit.  


Without a word, Slenderman rounded the sofa, approaching you. He reached down and scooped you into his arms, cradling you. The room warped from its antique and homely appearance to that of a pristine hospital. As you blinked your eyes, trying to wipe away the dizzying effect of the Slender-walk, your master lowered you onto a cold metal table. To this, you flinched and shivered, but succumbed to accepting it. The chilled steel was only making contact with your hands and exposed waist, anyway.  


Slenderman turned to a wall of cabinets and drawers, to which he quickly snatched out various items and placed them neatly on a wheeled metal cart. There was a white cloth, a bottle that looked like rubbing alcohol, medical thread, and a stitching needle. You gulped when you didn't see any pills or syringes. “M-master, I need something for the pain,” you began to beg as Slenderman returned to you with the cart of supplies. “Please. I don't think I can-” you were unable to finish, though. Slenderman unscrewed the bottle and doused your wound with the confirmed rubbing alcohol. Your body began to contort as you wailed out in pain, but your master's tendrils extended from his back and pinned you down to the table.  


Earlier, you thought waking up to Eyeless Jack playing doctor on you was the worst pain you had ever felt. Now? Now, you knew that your own master trying to repair your wound was the worst pain you had ever felt. He had no concern for your comfort, so long as it didn't cripple your performance in missions.  


The searing sensation in your abdomen set your brain on fire. You could barely register that you were even screaming or struggling out of reflex. No matter how much you wanted to fall unconscious, the discomfort of your wound being utterly cleansed kept you well awake. Even when Slenderman began dabbing and wiping away the blood and alcohol, you could feel the aftermath of his actions. Through the distorted vision of your tear-soaked eyes, you noticed your master preparing something else; his motions reminded you of someone threading a needle. This was soon confirmed when you felt the dull pierce of the need and the drag of the thread through your flesh. Part of you was thankful that the alcohol had numbed the edges of your open wound, but it didn’t comfort the sickness in your stomach.  


As you gathered your wits and steadied your breathing, you began pondering over the events within the living room. You dared to ask Slenderman, “Why didn’t you wake me up before you left?”  


There was a long pause as the tall being carefully stitched close your incision. He slowly pulled the thread through as he considered his words. “I had to attend a quick matter. I didn’t expect to be away for as long as was.”  


You winced at the next pierce of the needle, silently wondering what had called Slenderman away from you. This Creepypasta was mysterious – far more so than the rest. Maybe one day you would learn of what these ‘matters’ he had to deal with were, though part of you feared that you might not be able to handle them.  


“What happened to Eyeless Jack?” Concerns of the previous fight entered your mind. Jack’s screams echoed in your memories.  


A grunt of disapproval escaped Slenderman, and you noticed a deep scowl crinkle over his brow. He replied, “That fool will survive. He is acquiescent of my regulations within the mansion. His territorial instincts toward his sustenance will be his demise if this continues.”  


“I’ll just pay better attention to what’s made of kidneys,” you pursed your lips. Not sure if you should feel bad for Eyeless Jack or hate him for being viciously protective of his food.  


Slenderman finished your stitches and sliced the thread with his fingertip. He wheeled away the cart of supplies and pointed to a cabinet on the far end of the room near the door, “There are bottles of pain medication if you desire them. Take care not to overdose.”  


You didn’t hesitate to slide off of the metal table, though your stitches and abdomen protested. Through the aches, you hobbled across the smooth tiled floor and reached up to the cabinet you were directed to. Opening it revealed numerous bottles of various pain pills. On another shelf, you saw even more bottles of the drugs in liquid form. You took the safer route and snatched up a bottle of pills that you were most familiar with.  


“Take note that I will not always protect you from the other residents,” Slenderman’s deep voice filled your head. “They are allowed rough-housing and various pranks, but I draw the line when my Proxies are damaged to the point of hindered performance.”  


“Right,” you nodded and swallowed the dosage of pills that you would typically ingest for bad headaches. It took a few strained gulps, but you managed to get them down. "But I'm not exactly the most skilled with self-defense. Everyone here has way more experience than me." You turned to face your master, watching him wipe clean the table you were recently laying on with the already blood-stained cloth.  


Casually, Slenderman replied, "Your performance during your Proxy tests suggests otherwise."  


"That was totally a fluke," you blurted out, hoping that Slenderman might take pity on you and give you some fighting lessons or something.  


"That, my dear," your master gracefully turned to you, tossing the cloth into a basket nearby, and then leaned in close, "was a beautiful phenomenon I like to call primordial instinct." His index finger, long and bony, playfully tapped the center of your chest. Slenderman then straightened himself up, still tilting his head down to simulate eye contact. "I recommend that you meditate on the abilities humans have suppressed these past few millennia."  


Your quirked a brow at the thought of sitting cross-legged like the hovering monks you saw in movies. Spending hours sitting still and humming a single tone to yourself didn't seem all too appealing. "Can't I just take a Proxy fighting class?" You flinched, realizing how that question sounded; maybe you crossed the line?  


Slenderman didn't budge. He continued to stare at you. This did nothing to soothe your nerves. In fact, it made you anticipate him suddenly lashing out at you any second. "Another recommendation for you," he finally stated. When he knew you were paying more attention to his words, rather than his composure, the tall being continued, "Study your vocabulary. Humans have degenerated their own language, primarily the English language, through the abuse of slang and stereotypes."  


You pursed your lips, not sure how to respond to what your master, a cold-blooded killer, had just told you. The more you lived out this new life as a Proxy, the more you connected it with your old life as a human. Not only were you still in fear of being bullied, but now you had to do homework? What next? P.E. class?  


"Lastly," Slenderman interrupted your thoughts, "once your wound has healed, you should consider starting an exercise routine. The activity during today's mission was perhaps the least my Proxies have experienced in some time." At the sight of your irked demeanor, your master became - what it seemed to be - offended. He leaned in close to you again, much closer than before. You could feel the heat of his skin radiate from its surface; even the light scent of mulch tickled your nostrils. You stiffened up at the Slenderman's sudden change of attitude, afraid of what he might do to you. "Would you rather I turn you over to the residents of my condominium?" His words were laced with poison - one that caused your skin to crawl at the thought of Eyeless Jack actually gutting you with no restrictions.  


Swallowing the lump in your throat, you quickly shook your head to deny the offer. "I'll make sure to do everything you ordered, master, sir," your words were nothing short of a mousy squeak. Every time you thought you could relax and have a normal conversation with Slenderman, he would change altogether into the monster he truly could be. So far, you hadn't gotten strangled again, but maybe he was going easy on you now that you were officially a Proxy.  


Again, your master straightened up, this time stepping around you to exit the medical room. “These are all in your best interest. A lack of understanding and physical capabilities can be a major downfall in this line of work.” At that, he pushed open the swinging door and left you to your thoughts. Strangely enough, those thoughts currently consisted of how the door had no handle or lock. Probably for ease of access during emergencies.  


“Whatever,” you mumbled, feeling exhausted from the pain medication entering your bloodstream. You still felt some of the pills sitting in your throat, or maybe you were just being paranoid. Either way, you decided to hobble to the nearest bathroom and get a drink of water from the sink before finding your bedroom.  


So far, you seemed to do more sleeping as a Proxy than actually running on missions. Not that you should be complaining. Each mission was another possibility that you could be seriously injured or killed. The mansion seemed to be no less dangerous, though. Learning to fight back against the rest of the others living there was definitely your top priority, but for now, you couldn’t do much of that with your current condition.  


“Guess I’ll have to find out exactly what he meant by ‘meditating’ at some point,” you mumbled again.  


After drinking to satisfaction from the bathroom sink, you wandered the halls in mild discomfort, trying to figure out exactly where you were. How many floors did the mansion have? Sweat was beginning to form on your forehead from the pain in your abdomen. You would need to sit down soon or who knows what would happen – you hoped that fainting wasn’t a possibility, since that would leave you open to anyone who came across your unconscious self.  


Huffing and puffing from your rapidly declining endurance, you eventually found the staircase that lead to the first floor. This told you that you were on the second floor. Further past the staircase would be your bedroom. You pushed yourself on, telling yourself that the room was the only safe-haven in this home of psychos. So far, it was.  


As you stumbled down the hall, using the nearest wall for support, you approached Masky’s door. Curiosity burned in your mind, but you didn’t want to risk being caught snooping. So, rather than opening the door, you pressed your ear to it and listened.  


There was no longer a steady beep of the heart monitor. You couldn’t hear a distinct strained breathing like before. This seemed like good news – and you hoped that it was.  


Satisfied with your discovery, you continued on down the hall to your sanctuary. You locked your door shut and collapsed on your bed, immediately regretting that as your stitches strained against your tender flesh.  


For the next two days, you did as little as possible and stayed in your room when you otherwise needed to eat or relieve your bowls. Unfortunately, this routine didn’t give you as much peace and relaxation as you hoped to get.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to learn things nothing short of vocabulary definitions and more things that you have to worry about killing you.  
> Awwww yyeeaaaahhhhh!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps chapter down on table, huffing and puffing*  
> There! It's done!  
> Forgive me!  
> *runs away to get other projects updated*

Despite being physically exhausted from you recent first-hand experience in being medically tended to by your master, you were wide awake. You stared up at the dim ceiling, hardly noticing that you didn’t bother to turn on the room light – you didn’t care. The medicine you had swallowed earlier was finally starting to set in, dulling the pain in your abdomen to a tolerable level. Even so, each bit of movement you attempted to make in order to adjust yourself on the bed sent shocking pain through your system.  


Through your boredom, and your pursuit to take your mind of the discomfort, you began thinking over exactly how you got into this mess. This was a good time to organize your thoughts, after all. When you got revenge on the school bullies and your parents, you fully expected to be alone and homeless for some time. Never did you think that some supernatural entity would take you under his wing – or even test to see if you were worthy of his charge. What was even more surprising was that you passed those tests. This thought seemed to cause a proud sneer to curl up at one corn of your mouth. After so long of being told how worthless and disappointing you were, fate was proving them wrong – you were proving them wrong. If only those jerks could see you now.  


But they were dead.  


Good riddance.  


Your thoughts drifted along the timeline of your recent few days, trying to understand the people you’ve met and how to interact with them without getting killed. Hell, you didn’t have to directly interact with these guys to begin fearing for your life! Most of them seemed predictable in their own ways. Slenderman was an exception, however; this guy’s moods changed just about all the time. So far, you'd survived his various colors by acting accordingly. It was probably the only way anyone lived with the Slenderman, but you made a mental not to discuss this with one of your teammates when you got the chance.  


A firm rapping at your bedroom door disturbed your pondering. Before you could answer with your intended, “H-hello?”, the knob twisted and granted your visitor entrance.  


It was Laughing Jack. He was carrying that same silver tray that he had used when tending to Masky. The tray was full of medicine bottles, a pitcher of water, a matching drinking glass, and a large book of some sort. Again, before you could say anything, Jack began to assert his presence on you. This time he pouted to you as he rounded your bed and approached the nightstand, “I can't believe that Eyeless Jack got to play with you and I still haven't.” This clown sounded sincerely hurt on the matter, but you were more concerned as to what he considered as “play”.  


“We, uh...” you warily tried to correct Laughing Jack, “he and I weren't playing. He was cutting me open.”  


The monochrome clown confirmed your suspicions when he gave you a truly confused look after resting the tray on the small table next to your bed. It was then that you understood what his idea of “playing” was – which should have made sense to you much sooner, considering the he's a fellow resident of murderers.  


Your eyes wandered to the tray, examining its contents in the dim light of your bedroom. “I already took some pain meds not long ago,” you state, knowing that taking too many in too close of intervals was a terrible idea.  


“Slenderman already explained that to me,” Laughing Jack noted, “but he said that you haven't taken any antibiotics.” To this, he pointed a large black finger at the orange prescription bottle labeled with “vancomycin”. It was prescribed to someone you had never heard of, strongly hinting that these medications were stolen, but again, this was normal here. Jack continued, “These are high doses, and they're only to prevent an infection from festering, so just take one a day. Drink plenty of water.” He then adjusted his finger to the other bottle, “These are narcotics for when your pain comes back. Don't mix them with others. Try to wait at least four hours between each dose.” His instructions sounded practiced; Jack must have done this pretty often.  


You nodded in understanding to each statement, making near-silent “Oh”s as you were corrected of your assumption. Since it was pointed out that you hadn't taken any of the antibiotics yet, you rolled onto your side, propping your other half when an elbow, and opened up the bottle of vancomycin.. You dumped out a single pill while Jack poured your a glass of water, to which you gratefully accepted and popped the medicine into your mouth.  


After all that was done, you adjusted yourself against the large silken pillows so that you could sit up and finish your water without straining your wound any further. “So,” you sipped the surprisingly clean water, “are you maid of this mansion or something?”  


Jack had been standing there, hunched over with his abnormal arms dangling at his sides, while he was ensuring that you medicated yourself properly. As soon as you had asked him about his role in the mansion, Jack let out a hearty laugh and pretended to wipe away a tear with his finger. When he calmed down, the clown correct you once again, “I just like to help Slenderman's Proxies through their recovery. It's a sort of,” he paused, choosing his words, “agreement I made with him in exchange for being able to live outside of my box.” Here, his tone of voice faded to a rather saddened mumble, “...and to socialize with other beings.”  


To this, you gave Laughing Jack a concerned look while taking another sip of your water. He easily translated your expression as a request to delve deeper into his history. Taking a seat on the edge of your luxurious bed, Jack explained what he used to be; his far more jolly arrangement of colors, his box that he couldn't open on his own when inside, when he met Isaac, his short friendship with the boy, the devastating time his had spent trapped in his box and waiting for Isaac's return, his fading colors, and finally, the day Isaac did return, but as a completely different person.  


“It's not all bad, I suppose,” Jack sighed and you gave him a pitying look. “He taught me fun new ways to play with others.” At this, he grinned at you, raising a large hand to brush away a stray lock of hair from your temple. “The only downfall is that I usually can only play with people once per person.”  


This sent a shiver crawling through your skin. You severely hoped that Laughing Jack never got the opportunity to play with you the way he did with his victims. The only comfort you got out of this was that Slenderman wouldn't allow it, which wasn't saying much.  


While taking a once-over glance at you, probably to make sure you weren't having a reaction to the medicine, Laughing Jack noticed that your drinking glass was empty. He plucked it from your grip, stepped over to the nightstand, and refilled your glass. Rather than handing it back to you, though, Jack simply moved the tray and placed the glass onto the surface of the nightstand. “You should sleep. It'll pass the time,” he suggested while removing the contents from the silver tray and neatly placing them onto the table. “Or you could always read this,” Jack teasingly waved the mysterious book toward you before resting with the other miscellaneous items.  


“What's it about,” you raised a brow as you tried to identify the thick literature.  


“Slenderman told me to bring you a dictionary,” Laughing Jack sneered bemusedly. “It'll probably save your life if you expand your vocabulary.” He winked, tucking the serving tray under an arm, and strolled out of your room.  


When the door clicked shut, you released and exasperated sigh. The last thing you ever wanted to read was a dictionary! Unfortunately for you, there was not chance of sleep, thanks to your earlier nap, and exploring the mansion was out of the question for the time being.  


“Well,” you grumbled, reaching over and grabbing the book, “it's better than staring off into nothing.” You willed the light in your room to flicker on, thankful for the convenient Proxy benefit. After getting a little more comfortable, you cracked open the dictionary and decided that your first word to search would be the one your master had suggested in the medical room.  


“Meditate,” you mumbled to yourself, “to engage in thought or contemplation; reflect.” There was another variation of the definition, “to engage in transcendental meditation, devout religious contemplation, or quiescent spiritual introspection.” Considering that Slenderman brought this word up when the two of you were discussing your future training regime, you were pretty sure he didn't want you to meditate on religious things.  


You glanced at the prior definition. “Reflect,” you mumbled thoughtful. Slenderman's words echoed in your mind as you recalled him mentioning “abilities” that humans have suppressed. Jokingly, you wondered if that meant magic or elemental control, wiggling your fingers within view as if to cast a spell. Of course, nothing happened. You knew that your master was implying physical abilities, such as strength and heightened senses.  


Resting the opened book on your chest, you sighed, opening wondering how the hell you were supposed to meditate on physical fights. You'd been in so few, and you weren't exactly awake for some of them.  


Memories of your past fights ran through your mind, dissolving the ceiling that you gazed up to. You could easily recall the pain you had felt in those scuffles. Most of them you lost, limping home with torn clothes and deep bruises. Your parents didn't care. They just didn't want to be responsible for your physical damages.  


For a long time, you had held back your anger; your grief. You carefully plotted out how to destroy those school bullies, how to get revenge on your parents, but you failed to plan what would happen after all of that. Still, you wondered how much of a mistake that was. The murders went well. No one noticed you until you were far into the woods. You had done a good bit of contemplation on how to keep everyone quiet so things would go quick and smooth.  


_Contemplation._  


The familiarity of the word brought you back to reality, to which you lifted the dictionary and scanned over the definition of _meditation_ again. “To engage in thought or contemplation,” you mumbled.  


The realization hit you like a flurry of tickles, sending you into a hysterical giggle. This was quickly interrupted by a sharp pain in your abdomen, reminding you that abdominal use was highly limited. Still, you grinned to yourself as you now saw that you knew exactly how to meditate all this time. It wasn't just about sitting weird and humming tones.  


“Fine, then,” you said. “I'll meditate on how to fight.” This was going to be way easier than you thought.  


Just as you relaxed your eyes back up to the ceiling, however, the distant, yet startling, slam of a door jolted your senses. This was all accompanied by a flurry of curses from what you recognized as Jeff the Killer's voice. He was soon answered by another voice, though you couldn't identify it, who also swore out in surprise at Jeff.  


Something was wrong.  


Unable to just sprint down to the scene, you remained in your bed, breathing as lightly as you could. You tried your best to stay quiet so you could hear what was going on. Many of the sounds were muffled, but you could at least estimate what sort of expression they portrayed. Footsteps thundered up and down the staircases in various intervals. They were in a hurry, rushing to achieve some sort of goal that you didn't know. The footsteps would fade down the hall, away from your room, and then rush back to and down the staircase with little time in between.  


Curiosity got the better of you, although, you still didn't plan to go downstairs. Instead, you carefully slid off of your bed and hobbled to the door. From there, you cracked it open and peeked down the hall to at least see what all the running was about. It wasn't long before you heard a pair of heavy boots rushing down the hall toward you. When they got close enough, you saw within the dim lighting that it was Ticci Toby carrying an armful of various medical supplies – well, you assumed they were medical supplies, since the ace bandages were easy to identify – looking legitimately fearful of the situation at hand. He turned sharply to descend the staircase, disappearing from your sight.  


You could still hear Jeff cursing up a storm, though he was also coughing in between fits of choice words. The other voice was a little clearer now, and you were pretty sure it was Ben Drowned, as you could hear him nagging at Jeff to hold still and shut up – that was obviously failing.  


Another set of feet rushed toward you, though not nearly as pronounced. Laughing Jack's long strides were oddly graceful for his physique, but you pushed that aside in your mind as you squinted to what he was carrying in his long arms. There were a couple of orange prescription bottles, surgical threads, and other more serious-looking medical supplies than what Toby had. A cringe found its way on your lips as you guesstimated what may have happened to Jeff.  


From the bustling and commotion downstairs, you heard Ben yell out, “Where the fuck is Slenderman?!”  


As much as you wanted to hobble over to the staircase and listen in more closely, you decided that it was best not to get anywhere near the path of chaos that was going on. So, you shuffled your feet back to your bed, trying not to use your abdominal muscles, then rolled under the covers and continued to wonder what had happened to Jeff.  


After some time, things died down. The mansion was back do being quiet, save for the slow footsteps climbing to the second floor. You could hear pained grunting with nearly each step. A little later, you heard a nearby door open and close a few times, accompanied with grumbling curses – you were pretty sure they were curses. After the final clicking of the distant door, you heard a single pair of boots make their way toward your room.  


Part of you panicked, wondering if somehow this might be your fault – though, there was no way it could be – but you remained still, eyes locked on your bedroom door. The knob twisted and the door swung open, revealing Hoodie. He stared at you for a moment, probably checking to see if you were awake, then continued into you room, closing the door behind him. “We need to talk,” he said. This didn't help your slight paranoia in the least bit, to which you gulped and nervously defended that you couldn't have done anything wrong.  


Hoodie stepped over to the foot of your bed, staring you down, “I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm here to warn you – as my teammate.”  


Warily, you waited for Hoodie to continue, not sure how to respond.  


With a deep inhale, the yellow-clad man began to explain, “Jeff was injured on one of his hunts. It was someone from a separate faction of Creepypastas.”  


“There are factions?” You arched a brow at Hoodie, never once thinking that murderers would require multiple clans.  


Nodding, Hoodie branched off the subject of Jeff, “We may all enjoy killing, but we have our own common morals that we go by. You see, there are two major factions in the Creepypasta world: The Slender family and the Zalgoids. There's a third faction called the SCP's, but they're classified as feral.” Hoodie paused, making sure that you were keeping up with him. When he didn't receive any questions, the lecture continued, “The Zalgoids are led by a being equal in strength to Slenderman, who goes by 'Zalgo'; they prefer chaos and destruction. On the other hand, there's the Slender family – which is what we're a part of – who prefer order and punctuation.”  


“Why didn't I get to choose a faction?” You blurted out, not really thinking the obvious answer.  


“Proxies and Minions don't get to choose their faction,” Hoodie shrugged. “We're slaves to the faction heads. If you don't like it, then you die.”  


You gulped, “Right.” It was silent for a moment until you broke the silence with further inquiries, “So I'm guessing all the factions hate each other.”  


Hoodie nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, “There's been a war going on since before I got into all this mess. Neither Zalgo nor the Slender family appreciate the SCP's, but that's probably one of the few things they have on common.”  


Your eyes stirred in thought, wondering how long it would be before you had to deal with even more danger than you had originally anticipated on missions. This thought brought you back to Jeff's rather grandeur entrance from earlier, “If Jeff gonna be okay?”  


“Yeah. He'll live,” Hoodie answered. “He's just gonna be bedridden for a while. Maybe a few days at the most.”  


You bit your lip, not sure how sensitive the subject was, but decided to ask anyway, “Is-Is that what happened to Masky?”  


A heavy air fell over the room. You began to regret your words, fearing that Hoodie would lash out at you. Instead, he answered grimly, “Yeah.” The yellow-clad man raised a hand, sighing, and brushed back his hood to scratch at his head in frustration. “He's trying to take all the blame, but the whole team knows that part of it was my fault.” When Hoodie noticed your silent urge for him to clarify further, he sighed again and continued, “We were ambushed by a few Zalgoids on a mission. It's my job to watch Masky's back when things go wrong, since he's the scout. I was stuck, though. I tried to fight my attackers off, but those Minions are way tougher – they're not humans. Masky can fight, but he's not that great at fighting multiple opponents.”  


All the while, you nodded at each of Hoodie's statements. You took in his words, mentally preparing yourself for similar events that may happen in the future. Some relief washed over you when Hoodie mentioned how Slenderman saved the whole team. He really was a scary creature, and you were glad he was mostly on your side – so long as you did as you were told.  


Hoodie soon finished his story of regret by mentioning that Masky was improving greatly these past couple of days. “Poor guy wants to get out of that bed so bad,” he chuckled. “Maybe Toby and I will start his physical therapy tomorrow, since he's off the machines now.”  


You flashed a supportive smile to Hoodie. At that, he waved a darkly gloved hand and walked out of your room, leaving you alone once again. “Great,” you mumbled, “now I'm stuck with the dictionary some more.” But that wasn't the focus of your thoughts. Further within your mind, you were screaming, begging for the dangers to just stop. It was like every day brought new things that could kill you. Not only were you having to fear your house-mates, your master, and the mission targets, but now you had to worried about supernatural beings who could only benefit from killing you!  


“I'm really not okay with any of this,” you grumbled, though you knew no one cared what your preferences were.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More filler stuff, but you get to learn the pecking order in the Creepypasta world.  
> Masky knows it all too well.

Silence plagued your room once again. Your mind continued to swirl with questions and fears about the dangers you would have face one day. What sort of oddities would you have to see? Could you defend yourself against them? Would your teammates and master defend you? Considering the fact that Masky and Jeff had been taken care of after suffering damage, your worries were only slightly comforted that you might have strong allies at your side.  


You were so deep within your thoughts, vision darkened by the hallucinogenic images flashes before your eyes, that you hadn’t noticed the tall being standing at the foot of your bed. Only the faint shifting of fabric that scratched through your ears jolted you out of your ponderings, startling you back to reality. Standing there, watching you patiently, was the Slenderman. His nearly blank countenance slightly tilted down toward you, waiting for your nerves to settle from shock. You curse under your breath before squeaking out a short greeting to your master, “H-hey.”  


Slenderman’s head turns toward your bedside table, “I see you’ve been educating yourself.” He returns his gaze back to you, emitted an ominous wake around him. You couldn’t help but feel as though you had been caught slacking off from an important task.  


“Uh. Y-yeah,” the words barely escaped your lips as you slowly understood what the tall being was implying.  


“Have you participated in my recommendation?”  


Again, you had to define everything he had just said, trying to piece together Slenderman’s words like some sort of advanced puzzle. It soon hit you that he was talking about meditating on fighting. You quickly replied, not want to lie, “Kind of; those other factions and what they did to Jeff have me concerned, though.” Your master nodded his head in understanding, as though he were expecting this conversation to happen. With the lack of verbal response from him, you continued, “Hoodie told me about the Zalgoids and SCPs. I don’t know how to protect myself against them.”  


A knowing hum reverberates from Slenderman, leaving you a little confused with his odd response.  


Rather than interrogating your master about it, you instead inquire sheepishly, “Can I ask you some questions?”  


A bemused response rumbled from Slenderman, “At your own risk.” Even if he was bluffing, you didn’t take it lightly.  


You paused for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of voicing your concerns to the powerful being. Then, you gulped down built-up nervous saliva before finally saying, “Do you get,” you hesitated, choosing your words, “intimate and dominant with the other Proxies like you do with me?” This wasn’t a question out of jealousy, but rather to understand what sort of treatment you were receiving compared to the other Proxies.  


Slenderman tilted his head, the dim sunlight from your sheer window drapes illuminating his legitimately innocent and befuddled expression – as vague as it was. “I’m unsure of what you refer to,” your master replied, his voice matching just how little knowledge he had of your mentioned experiences.  


Still, you tried going into detail, recalling how the lanky creature would crawl over you in your bed and demand that you call him “master”. How he would strangle you until you were nearly faint from lack of breath. How he would taste your skin with his hidden tongue. You didn’t like narrating what had been scarred into your brain, but you weren’t going to let him dodge the question so easily.  


Again, though, Slenderman replied after pondering for a few moments, “These events avert my memory.”  


You scowled, certain that your master was lying. It was strange, though, that he would avoid admitting what he had done when he has so much dominance over everyone in the mansion. What was he afraid of? Or could he truly not remember what he had done? It seemed that you weren’t going to get such information out of him, so you changed the subject to other concerns that you had knocking from within the back of your mind. “How often do the other factions attack us?”  


Standing still as stone, Slenderman held his chiefly posture and replied, “Occasionally, but most often during missions outside of my family’s territory.”  


A spark of excitement filled you at the knowledge that Slenderman had relatives. You thought that maybe he had a softer side to him, if he could accept his kin. “So, you really have a family? Like, blood-relatives?”  


Quietly, almost too sudden for your comfort, your master took two long strides around the bed and to your side. He then plucked up the bed covers and pulled them away, also lifting the bottom of your shirt to inspect your wound as he replied, “To my utter misfortune.” There was a short pause from him as his gaze was aimed to your still healing abdominal damage. During this time, your heart sank a little at the realization that Slenderman didn’t quite appreciate having parents or siblings or whatever he might be referring to. Maybe he was the grumpy one in the family.  


“Minimalize your movement for the next 24 hours,” Slenderman’s deep voice boomed informatively. “Once that time has passed, you should be capable of light activity.”  


He was right, of course. After spending the rest of the day in agonizing boredom and eventually sleeping through the night, you awoke to find your wound had formed into a dark scar. It was still red and tender, and the muscle had settled to a dull ache when you used it, but there was hardly a chance that it would reopen. Laughing Jack had come by just before you fell asleep. While you ate your small dinner and took you medication, the sinister clown pulled out your stitches with one quick tug. He had a sneer plastered on his dark lips, enjoying your cry of protests when you felt the burn of the medical thread running through your tender skin. It was probably the closest he would ever get to “playing” with you.  


Now, though, you didn’t have to worry about being stuck in bed anymore. You woke up, feeling wonderfully refreshed, and happily went through your usual morning routine of getting ready for the day. After dressing into your trademark gear, you exited your bedroom to make your way to the kitchen. Hopefully there was something edible for you there.  


Just as you took your first step into the hall, you stopped at the sight of a character you hadn’t seen in quite some time. The door closest to your room was open, a man wearing a white, feminine mask stared at you in what you assumed was surprise. The both of you held a gaze on each other for a few moments before you smile and greet him, “Good morning.” You had spoken to Masky those couple of times when he was bedridden, and he seemed friendly enough, so you hoped he would hold the same demeanor.  


At the break of the ice, Masky calmly finished closing his bedroom door and replied, “So, you’re the newest Proxy.” It sounded more of a statement than a question.  


You took a couple steps forward, still giving the man his space, as you extended your hand and nodded your head. “It’s good to see you doing better.”  


Masky’s gaze lowered to your open palm before accepting and giving one good shake. “Right,” he said and let go. “Can’t say the same, myself.”  


His words left you a little confused with their depressing tone. “Uh,” you stumbled at your words, not sure how to keep the conversation going, “Okay…? You liked being in critical condition?” Scowling at your foolish inquiry, you mental slapped yourself.  


Still, Masky replied to you as he turned and walked away toward the staircase, “You’ll understand soon enough.” His heavy boots thudded on the carpeted floor at a slow pace.  


For a short while, you stared after the man, not sure how to process this information. He seemed so depressed about surviving. Maybe he didn’t like being a Proxy? This was something you would have to ask when the two of knew each other better, though.  


You chased after Masky until you were at his side near the bottom of the stairs. He seemed to be going to the kitchen, too, so you tried to continue talking to him, seeing as how he was a teammate you needed to connect with. “Well, uh,” you stammered, trying to change the subject to something with less angst, “What’s your role on the team?” No one had mentioned that to you, yet. Hoodie and Toby seemed to have specific jobs, so it would make sense that Masky would have of specialty of his own.  


Never turning his head to you, Masky continued his stride, “Scout, mostly. I sneak around and catch the enemy by surprise whenever possible.”  


“Oh, that’s cool!” You replied, trying to sound supportive; however, Masky remained silent as the two of you reached the end of the hall near the kitchen. You tried to think of something else to talk about, but your thoughts would return to questions of why Masky was acting to differently from when you had first met him in his room.  


Soon, the two of you entered the kitchen, finding that the light was already on. Across the tiled floor, you found Slenderman clutching a sack of stolen goods and placing the cabinets like some sort of pantry Santa Claus. Without turning around, your master spoke up in an oddly satisfied tone, “Ah, it pleases me to have my dear Proxies all in adroit condition.”  


There was only silence as Masky approached the refrigerator and began to dig around for his breakfast. You waited your turn at the kitchen entrance, not sure if you should say anything in response to the Slenderman. Once Masky closed the fridge and stepped over to the stove and cabinet, he began gathering the necessary kitchenware to cook up some eggs. Now that it was your turn, you opened the fridge to find it fully stocked of various healthy foods and drinks. There didn't seem to be any luxurious items, such as soda and snack cakes. Part of you found this amusing that Slenderman was such a health-freak, but considering your use to him, it made sense.  


After scanning over your choices, you decided on a simple breakfast – one that didn't require cooking – to which you retrieved the items from the cold storage box. You could feel the tension in the air between Masky and Slenderman as no one in the room spoke. All that broke the otherwise absolute silence was the sizzling of eggs on the stove, your fiddling with your own food, and your master still stocking the cabinets. The tall being seemed to be the least bit concerned with Masky's muteness, his voice confirmed this as he spoke, “Considering that the both of you are at similar stages in your recovery, I recommend that you begin your physical therapy exercises together.”  


Immediately, you whipped your head with an awkward expression to view Masky's opinion on the matter. He was returning the gaze, almost sizing you up, but never uttered a word as he returned his attention to his scrambled eggs.  


Not wanting to leave Slenderman's words hanging in the air, you replied obediently, “Yes, master.” You had this gut-wrenching feeling that Masky was in for torturous consequences due to his lack of responses to the Slenderman, and you didn't want to suffer the same fate. It was strange, however, that Masky hadn't received any backlash from your master yet. Slenderman was usually quick to administer discipline. Maybe the Proxy's silence was a normal thing?  


As you began to consume your breakfast, Slenderman placed the last item into the cabinet, closed the door, and began neatly folding the large, old sack he had used. He placed it onto the counter in a secluded area, then said, “I will be attending a meeting elsewhere for the remainder of this day. When I return, be prepared for a status briefing.”  


You turned from your plate on the counter, eyeing your master curiously, “Another mission?”  


“That will be decided upon my return,” Slenderman replied.  


As you cracked open your mouth to inquire further, you only managed to utter a single syllable before a large white hand gripped under your jaw and forced your neck to crane up. You were now staring at Slenderman's looming form as he held you close to his tall form from behind. His deeply knitted brow gave clear indication that he was now upset with you. “Request permission to speak,” his voice growled; you could feel it reverberate through his torso and into your back. “You've grown too comfortable so soon.”  


Vigorously, you tried to nod your head against Slenderman's tight grip to show compliance. You felt that the attempt wasn't good enough, so you squeaked a response, despite your strained throat, “Y-yes, master.” For several long moments, all you could hear was the casual tink-tink as Masky scraped his scrambled eggs into a plate. You were far to scared to take deep breaths, barely letting your chest rise and fall. Masky's seemingly oblivious behavior made your situation feel far more awkward than it should have.  


Finally, though, Slenderman slowly released his grip on your jaw, allowing your head to relax some. He said, “I recommend that you learn your place by the time I return.” You didn't hesitate to reply with another nod and verbal understanding. Slenderman fully released you by this point, and you couldn't feel him behind you any longer.  


That wasn't enough to ease your nerves, though, as you kept your head tilted up as he left you, only just turning your head to peek over your shoulder. The more you couldn't see your master, the more you turned, until you were sure that he was truly gone. At this point, you found Masky with his effeminate visor on top of his head, busy eating away at his breakfast with little concern to your recent event. He did, however, between bites, “I'd say you got lucky, but...” his thoughts trailed off within the confines of his mind.  


You turned back to you food, catching on to what Masky was hinting at. Even with all that's happened, you were partially convinced that being a veteran Proxy had its perks, so Masky's behavior seemed odd to you. “Is it really that bad being a Proxy?”  


Masky finished chewing his food, leaving a heavy silence between the two of you before he swallowed and answered darkly, “You're new to all of this, so I'll lay down the laws for you.” He set down his fork and turned to fully face you, his eyes glaring with a tired hue. “Us Proxies are the bottom of the food chain here; we're expendable. The ferals are only above us because they're so much stronger. There are no choices for a Proxy to make; there's only 'shut up and do what you're told'. We're slaves to the Slender family. That's all they see us as. There's nothing good about being a Proxy.” Masky then turned back to his glass of orange juice pulled out a pill bottle from his jacket, the contents rattling as though to taunt you with what may come. The man dumped out a few of the white medicine and dumped them into his mouth, chasing them down with the juice.  


Speechless, you could only watch Masky in pity, yet you were slowly starting to realize just about bad your life was going to be here. At first, you thought that Masky was just one of those rebellious characters who wanted out, even though he had it made. Now, though, you were beginning to understand why he wasn't so thankful to be alive.  


Once Masky finished his drink, he gathered his dishes and carried them over to the sink, for washing. “You actually had a choice, from what Hoodie and Toby have told me,” he said, jealousy thick on his tongue. “You could have failed those tests that Slender gave you. You could have died and gotten out of here.”  


Flashbacks of your experiences with the residents of the mansion filled your head for a split second. The pain and torture you had faced so far sent your hair standing on end. “From what I know about the Creepypastas here, my death wouldn't have been all that pleasant.”  


Masky didn't seem to like your reply, his baffled words trying to make you see his reasoning, “But it would have been that one time! I can't even count the tortures I've experienced. Every time he gets me out of there before I can finally die.” He threw a fist into the hot, soapy water, making a mess that he chose to ignore.  


You tried to quietly eat your breakfast, undeniably hungry. Still, you carried on the conversation, curiosity fueling your words. “Not that I support it, but why don't you just commit suicide?” Before becoming a Proxy, you never would have dreamed that you would encourage someone to take their own life. Now, however, you were taking on the sickness of the mind that everyone else here seemed to share. Life was no longer precious to them – to you – as the very act of extinguishing it was a way in itself.  


With a new, weary air about him, Masky began to wash his dishes. He released a sigh before saying, “I've tried – dozens of times. Unfortunately, once you become a Proxy, you're mentally linked to your master. He knows everything you do, everything you think, even what you feel. Each time I tried to die by my own hands, he would stop me; and if I was well enough, he'd punish me.”  


Finding it a little odd that this man seemed to be the only Proxy to hate his very existence, you swallowed your mouthful of food and asked, “Do Hoodie and Toby feel the same way about all of this?” So far, you hadn't noticed similar depression from your other two teammates, but asking would be better than assuming.  


A snort jetted from deep within Masky's sinuses. “Toby's a complete nut; idolizes Slenderman. Hoodie just likes to look out for himself, but he understands the importance of teamwork. He only does what he's told to save his own ass.”  


“Yeah, Hoode mentioned that about himself before my first mission.”  


A silence fell over the kitchen. Masky finished washing and putting away his used dishes just as you completed your early meal. There were few words exchanged between the two of you from then on, Masky only giving instructions of where he was leading and what exercises to do for your physical therapy. Said therapy began with an upbeat pace around the exterior of the mansion for two laps. Afterward, you were lead back inside to ascend the grand staircase several times. By this point, your legs were beginning to feel as though they would collapse from under your body at any moment. You were relieved to see Masky also winded from the workout as he instructed that it was time for upper body exercises. This eventually ended with a water and snack break, but you groaned at the sound of Masky telling you it was time for the second round.  


By near dusk, you and Masky were coated in sweat. Your abdominal scar was pulsing with irritation of your physical abuse on it. Masky wasn't doing too well, either, panting and coughing at the pain in his chest. Both of you would live, though.  


It was during another excruciating round of the staircase that Ticci Toby interrupted Masky and yourself. He hurriedly strolled over to inform the two of you that Slenderman was going to give his briefing. “Ten minutes,” was Toby's warning before he disappeared down the second floor hall to arrive at the meeting.  


Masky didn't let you grab towels to wipe off your sweat – not even a bottle of water – before heading straight to the room he knew Toby implied.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adult things.  
> Not crazy explicit, but it's gonna get mature while Smexy's around.

The briefing room was an understatement of its interior design – it looked much more like a war room! There was a table in the center of the room, a map spread flat over its surface. A layer of glass covered this map, most likely to prevent damage or taint from the dry-erase markers that you noticed on the side. The walls were decorated with various statistics of enemies and allies; some were noted as missing or no longer existing. There were no seats, though some attendants happily sat on the thin, carpeted floor.  


Everyone you had met so far packed themselves into the briefing room, making a crescent formation around the table. Slenderman stood on the otherwise open side of the table, remaining statuesque as the last bodies entered. Speculating mumbles rumbled through the room’s atmosphere, creating a nervous tension in your chest. The very second the door clicked shut, everyone fell silent, watching the tall being in anticipation.  


Slenderman began his announcement rather professionally, “It has come to my attention that a group of Zalgoids have breached the Slender Family territory.” He waited a moment as Jeff released a slew of curses, then continued. “Sexual-Offenderman’s residence is closest to this breaching, so his Proxies and residents will be joining us in the effort to push back the enemy. Everyone is obligated to take part in this mission.”  


You immediately began to wonder how you or Masky would survive this, seeing as the both of you were still recovering from major injuries. In an effort to fight the urge to simply blurt out your protest, you shot up a hand and waited for your master to acknowledge you. Ben and Laughing Jack snickered at this, but you held firm. Slenderman noticed you immediately, though he didn’t request your concerns, “Yes, ____. You and Masky are both included. Your injuries will not hinder you so much to prevent the performance of simple tasks.”  


Slowly, you lowered your hand, a sinking feeling in your gut settling uneasily. You glanced at Masky, who stood next to you. His mask prevented you from seeing his true expression, but you sensed a feeling a dread radiate from him.  


Tracing an index finger over the table, Slenderman explained the plan of operation. “We will rendezvous with Offender’s team at his motel. Since we have a new Proxy,” he tilted his head to gesture that he was implying you, “it is important that she meet her allies before the main event.” Your master returned his gaze to the general audience patiently waiting for further information. His finger trailed across the table’s surface a short distance and made a circle, “We will then wait for Offender’s scouts to update the Zalgoids’ position before transporting to this general location. I must stress to all of you not to cross the territory border under _any_ circumstances. There are clear indications where the territories meet, so I will not accept any excuses.” Everyone nodded in silence.  


“Is this a kill mission or are we just herding some cattle around?” Jeff the Killer shuffled anxiously where he stood, shoving his hands into his hoody pocket. He pulled out a bent cigarette and a lighter, quickly flicking the device until it held a flame.  


While Jeff took deep drags of his ashen tar-stick, Slenderman replied, “Considering the circumstances, Offender and I have agreed to capture at least one Zalgoid for interrogation.”  


“Shit,” Jeff didn’t like the sound of that. Even Laughing Jack was cringing at the instructions.  


It was no surprise to you that Masky, Hoodie, nor Toby were showing any objection to this. None of the Proxies had a choice, let alone an opinion. Ben seemed uncomfortable with what was to come, and Eyeless Jack remained impassive as he gazed at the map.  


Understanding the obvious tension in the room, Slenderman attempted to create some form of comfort so to raise the morale, “My brother and I will take care to capture one, but only when we greatly outnumber the intruders.”  


“How many are there?” Eyeless Jack spoke for the first time since the meeting had begun.  


“According to Offender’s scouts, there are seven Zalgoids,” Slenderman replied informatively. A weary groan quickly escaped Ticci Toby. “The usual strategy applies: four Proxies to one Zalgoid, two residents to one Zalgoid. Do your best to aid each other when possible. We needn’t for any further casualties.” Everyone nodded, some with reluctance.  


"Gear up. Return within 20 minutes for transport to Offender’s residence,” Slenderman made his orders firm as though he had done this a thousand times. You didn’t doubt the idea at all.  


The ammo and weapons this time around were a bit different from what you originally viewed. You and Masky went to get dressed into your typical Proxy gear, then joined Hoodie and Ticci Toby in the weapons room. Masky and Hoodie quickly busied themselves with equipping and stocking some rather serious-looking paintball guns. The transparent spheres that served as ammo seemed to be filled with water, and you finally succumbed to the urge to speak up. “Am I getting the wrong message or did I get abducted in the middle of a paintball war?”  


“Wrong message,” Toby snorted. He was steadily stocking up on his own short-ranged gun.  


“We’re fighting Zalgoids,” Hoodie stated, swinging a rifle over his shoulder and grabbing a pistol, to which his shoved into a hip holster. “That means demons.”  


You quickly put the pieces together, understanding what was going on, “So those balls are filled with holy water…?”  


A barely suppressed giggle sounded from Ticci Toby’s direction as he hosed down his hatchet heads with a bottle of the blessed liquid, “She’s smarter than she looks.”  


Masky walked up beside you, shoving a paintball gun and pistol into your arms. He already looked geared to go. “Not all Zalgoids are demons, though. Use your pistol if they aren’t writhing in pain from the balls.”  


“He said ‘b-balls’,” Toby giggled childishly to himself.  


A sigh escaped Hoodie from the other side of the room. You checked your acquired weapons and made yourself familiar with the paintball gun. “What about knives? Will they be effective?” Masky nodded, though he didn’t look all too confident with his answer. These Zalgoids were going to be a terrifying experience, and you could easily feel it in the room.  


Your group returned to the briefing room with a few minutes left to spare – always a good thing for a Proxy. The Creepypastas seemed ready since before you had left, though you shouldn’t have been surprised. They were, after all, made for this sort of thing.  


You barely noticed everyone else make a reassuring nod to Slenderman, signaling that they were ready. The tall being didn’t hesitate to extend his dark tendrils and make contact with all others present in the room. The sensation was exactly the same as last time – confusing and abrupt. Your brain had to adjust to the sudden change of view and smells. Blinking several times, you took in your surroundings, making quick note that the place looked like a motel lobby. It was a bit run-down, smelled heavily of cigarettes and sweat, and there were even a set of vending machines for snacks and drinks. A third machine, however, had your brow arching high upon realizing what it contained.  


Condoms.  


“This is,” you leaned over to Masky, speaking low, “not what I expected.”  


The brunette man didn’t turn his head as he responded, “Each brother has his own quirk.” He held his gaze toward your master, waiting for orders. “I’m surprised you didn’t catch on when you heard Offender’s name.”  


Cringing at how obvious the theme should have been, you mumbled, “Yeah, true.”  


At that instant, a second tall being appeared next to Slenderman. He was a bit shorter than your master, seemed stockier, and was clad in a dark trench coat and fedora. Rather than having no orifices on his head, this one had at least a mouth – one full of sharp teeth. “They haven’t noticed my Proxies yet,” the Slender-brother’s voice was gruff and deep, “or they’re ignoring them.”  


“Have you recovered any information as to why they’re trespassing?” Slenderman tilted his head, furrowing his brow at Sexual-Offenderman.  


“You know those weirdos – always talking nonsense,” Offender scratched his head through his fedora, looking worried. “Should we really make a move?”  


“Absolutely,” your master firmly stated, “showing any sign of leniency will only encourage them to trespass more often.” His brother nodded, an edgy expression still apparent on his partial face.  


There was so much tension in the air that you hadn’t noticed the gradually increasing sounds of soft panting behind you. It was the huge, clawed hand credulously patting and running through your hair that startled you into a yelp. To this, you whirled around to see your invader, swatting away the hand. At this moment, you instantly realized two things: one was that the hand had a thin layer of dark, chocolate fur, the second was that whoever – _whatever_ – was touching your hair wasn’t even close to being humanoid, as you had seen everyone else, so far.  


This being was easily two feet taller than yourself. It looked down at you through its only useful eye (the other’s lid seemed to be sewn shut) with a hurtful gaze. You studied the creature’s face, noting how it and its long snout were masked by patches of leather that were crudely sewn together. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, certain that you were going to be eaten by whatever this was.  


“Seed Eater, what’d I tell you about sneaking up on the newbies,” Sexual-Offenderman’s gruff voice sternly broke the silence, startling you a bit. The hairy creature, presumably known as 'Seed Eater', dipped its head in apology – mostly to Sexual-Offenderman.  


You took a step back, running your fingers over your violated hair to get rid of the lingering sensation. At this point, you were able to take in all that Seed Eater was. Its beastly physique was far different from any other Creepypasta you had encountered. A dark lion's mane bushed around its neck, emphasizing Seed Eater's already intimidating size. At this rate, everyone besides Ben Drowned was taller than yourself, and that was beginning to get irritating.  


A delicate, pale hand cupped under your chin as you studied the haunting animal in front of you. This hand derailed your train of thought as it pulled you back around to face the trench-coated Slender-being. He grinned down to you, giving a seductive view of his sharp, pearly whites. “Finally got you a new Proxy, big bro? And a female, at that,” Sexual-Offenderman chuckled, tilting and turning your head in all sorts of directions as he looked you over. “Did you break her in yet?”  


From behind the far less sophisticated brother, Slenderman released an exasperated sigh. “No, I did not. You know well that I do not participate in such grotesque activities.”  


“What else are they for?” Sexual-Offenderman looked over his shoulder before licking his lips and looking back at you with a hungry gaze. You weren't sure how you knew the expressions on his mildly lacking face – you weren't sure how you understood your master's expressions – but they were clear to you, regardless. “I could break her in for you, if you wa-”  


“ _No_ ,” Slenderman's voice boomed throughout the lobby. Seed Eater and your fellow Proxies shifted uneasily. Jeff, Ben, and the two Jacks didn't seem to be phased.  


At his brother's denial, Sexual-Offenderman released your chin and threw up his hands in defeat. “All right! All right.” He then mumbled as he stepped back, still grinning, “Such a waste.”  


Your eyes shifted between your master and his brother. Part of you worried that the shorter Slender-being would be a threat, but you also had a faint voice in your head whispering assurance of your safety.  


Before anyone in the lobby could begin a new conversation, a door from down a short hall clicked open, whining as it swung forward to make way for whoever was entering. A feminine voice full of womanly confidence cooed out, “Smexy, if you don't stop irritating your brother, we might not have a place to stay anymore.” Two sets of heels echoed from further beyond the door.  


From around the corner emerged a stout woman, short in stature, yet she didn't seem bothered by her socially unattractive appearance. She was clad in classical drama attire, but with a sassy twist. Her dressy flats padded on the tiled floor as she drew closer to your group. Dangling from her neck was a long chain, attached to a green, metal box. You could only imagine what was hidden inside. As this woman approached Sexual-Offenderman, she twirled one of her long, stray curls of dark brown locks in her fingers. The rest of her high ponytail bounced with the heavy sway of her seductive hips. “You wouldn't want all your women running loose, now would you?” Despite speaking to the Slender-being, the woman's deep, brown eyes scanned over the guests that had arrived.  


"Aw, Isa, baby,” Sexual-Offenderman smirked wide, “you know I couldn't let that happen. I like my women _tight_.” Jeff immediately snorted at this statement, trying to stifle his perverted laughter. It took you a moment to realize what was so funny.  


The same door from earlier whined open again, clicking heels growing louder as they approached. One set of steps was slow, while the other tapped quickly, as though trying to keep up. Your gaze from the woman, Isa, switched to the corner toward the unseen door, quickly seeing two very different women come from around the corner.  


One woman was tall, though still not even close to reaching either of the Slender brothers. The other woman was incredibly short, far smaller than even Isa. At best, she may reach your hips. As for the taller woman, you noticed her near-perfect physique; hour-glass figure, long legs, large breasts. She was undoubtedly beautiful, until you noticed that her face was missing.  


No, not missing.  


Her head was twisted around! You were staring at the back of her head, yet you were certain that the front of her body was facing you.  


The realization that you were staring far too long to be polite hit you, so you returned your glance to the shorter woman. She was clad in festive green colors; a pair of bows tied on either side of her straight, black hair, and a strapless fur-trimmed dress. Her contrasting red eyes and face-paint reminded you of Christmas. Dangling from each earlobe were a pair of tiny sheathed daggers, which matched with the larger exotic dagger strapped to her hip.  


Your master cleared his throat, though you didn't understand why he would need to do that, considering how he didn't need to breathe. (Perhaps it was just an audible sound he created through a broadcast of telepathy?) Regardless, he caught everyone's attention, to which he stated, “It seems that everyone is accounted for. We should quickly run through introductions, so that ____ recognizes her allies.”  


At that, your master's brother stepped forward, adjusting the long collars of his trench coat, “The name's Sexual-Offenderman.” He leaned down and reached for your hand, raising it up and kissing your knuckles, “I much prefer that the ladies called me 'Smexy'.”  


“I can see your dick peeking out,” the childish voice of the festive woman irked from behind.  
Your face flushed red at the realization that Smexy had no other clothing than his trench coat. One wrong glance at him at the wrong time would give you far more of the being than you could ever ask for. He straightened out, stepping back from you with a shameless grin.  


“ _That_ raunchy midget,” Smexy tossed back a thumb in the shortest woman's direction, “is Bridget the Midget.”  


“I'm an _elf_ ,” Bridget corrected. “And not one of Tolkien's elves, either. Those aren't real.” She drew her exotic dagger and pointed it straight to you, “ _Real_ elves steal children and eat their flesh! We don't care about hugging trees and shit.”  


You gulped, making a note not to even call this woman a midget – to stay on her good side.  


“Come now, Bridget,” came a tantalizing voice from the tallest woman. “You have to admit, Tolkien's elves are rather attractive.” She spun around on one heel, raising her head up so that her brushed-forward, blonde hair parted like curtains to a stage show. She didn't completely reveal her face, leaving it still somewhat hidden by a thin layer of hair. “I wouldn't mind sucking the life out of their beautiful faces,” a pair of short, bulky appendages fidgeted hungrily where a human's mouth should be. You also noticed how dark the area of her eyes were. They seemed far darker than they should be, even with the hair casting its thin shadow.  


While Bridget huffed at the strange woman's statements, Smexy continued to take care of the introductions, “This fine piece of ass is Cata Wumpas.”  


“Just call me 'Cat',” the blonde tilted her hips and crossed her arms over her chest. Thank goodness for the strap crossing over her breasts, or they would have surely popped out of the revealing red dress.  


Smexy leaned forward again, this time placing a flat hand between his mouth and Cat as he whispered, “Just don't kiss her. It's a whole other ride up there.”  


“You _have_ telepathy, Smexy,” Cat growled. “Why do you insist on mocking me?”  


“Mock you?” Smexy rushed to Cat's side and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her hips tight against his. “I'm just giving fair warning to the ally, baby-Cat.”  


While Sexual-Offenderman and Cata Wumpas settled things with obscene sexual foreplay, you tried your best to ignore it. Slenderman was looking increasingly irritated as it went on much longer than necessary. The stout woman, who you only knew as 'Isa', rolled her eyes and stepped forward, “My name is Isadora Deves. I'm sure you heard me referred to as 'Isa' earlier. Either reference is allowable. She pointed a finger just behind you (you only knew that because the direction of the finger was higher than yourself), “And that is our house pet, Seed Eater. He prefers children as meals, but he doesn't mind killing whatever we tell him to.”  


“R-right,” you took in a deep breath and sighed, trying to get rid of the tension you had built up with all that was going on.  


“ _Shit_!” Smexy exploded with rage as he pushed Cat aside. “Mother _fucker_!” He turned to Slenderman, white tendrils sprouting from his back, “The Zalgoids made a move! My Proxies are taking heat!” At that, Smexy latched a tendril on all four of his residents before they disappeared.  


Slenderman sprouted his black tendrils, looking far more calm than his brother, “Offender's Proxies look nothing like the Zalgoids, ____.” His lacking face was aimed straight at you. “The Zalgoids will be naked and have multiple mouths on various places of their bodies. Kill them.” Before you could request further clarification, the scenery and air changed around you with zero warning. You had to take a moment to recover and allow your mind to adjust.  


Things were moving way too fast now, making your heart race in panic. A hand gripped your arm and pulled you with it as your eyes focused just in time to see a glance of several red and black demons hopping around and taunting your allies like giddy tricksters. The crackling of burning leaves and brush filled your ears and you noticed spots of fire here and there. You turned to see who was leading you away, finding that it was Masky. He, Hoodie, and Ticci-Toby were escaping to a thick area of foliage nearby. “We need to scope the area first,” Masky called back to you, knowing you had plenty of questions running through you head. “It's going to take all four of us to take one Zalgoid down.”  


Your heart sank at the thought of how difficult this was going to be.  


All four of you crouched behind the cover of bushes and young trees, peeking through to gather the situation. Toby already had his gun drawn. Hoodie was looking over his own, making sure it would function at a moment's notice. Masky lifted his gun from over his head, readying it to action. You decided to do the same, just in case things got worse.  


“One of Offender's P-Proxies is down,” Toby stated. “Looks b-bad.”  


“They'll need help,” Masky added. “But it looks like we'll have a Zalgoid for our own group to deal with.”  


Hoodie shifted in his spot, “Let Offender take care of his Proxies. If we finish our guy before he kills his, _then_ we'll go help.”  


“Can't we just-” You tried to make your own input, but the rest of your teammates agreed to Hoodie's suggestion and moved out from around the bush. You didn't have much choice but to follow instructions. At least you wouldn't be performing any close combat, so long as you could keep your distance with the holy water gun.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big battle isn't as big as it probably should have been.  
> You go a little crazy.  
> Smexy is way nicer than Slender.  
> Jeff is a stubborn turd.

The world rushed around right along with your mind. You did your best to interpret what the rest of your team was strategizing against the target Zalgoid. Toby, Hoodie, and Masky quickly surrounded the demon, aiming their guns and opening fire. You joined in, keeping even spacing between everyone – especially yourself and the Zalgoid. It's black and red skin sizzled at the contact of bursting holy water. The several mouths embedding the creature's body cursed you and your allies in various languages.  


As soon as the enemy saw an opening, it lunged for Masky. Claws slashed through air when Masky dodged and shot a couple of holy balls into one of the Zalgoid's mouths. The demonic being spat and hacked, practically choking as its throat was undoubtedly scalded from the foreign substance. It wasn't long until the Zalgoid returned to its attempted attacks. Your team and yourself were surprisingly successful in keeping a safe distance from it and the other scuffles nearby. This continued on for several minutes, slowly weakening your target. There were a few close calls, and you were growing heavily out of breath. One wrong move now would surely bring about your end.  


The Zalgoid's sporadic and quick movements were hard to keep up with. It seemed to notice your decreasing endurance, focusing on you the most by this point.  


Then you stumbled; your legs were practically gelatin now.  


Seizing the opportunity, the demon drew close to you with a wild grin. Its spiked arms and clawed hands swung drunkenly in your direction.  


Things began to change for the worse. The Zalgoid's once red eyes were now an abysmal black. Blood seeped from its hollow orifices and oozed down its cheeks.  


_He comes._ The whispers started out like soft licks of wind.  


You glanced around as you dodged the Zalgoid, searching your teammates for answers. All you found were their empty sockets and gaping mouths, despite their headgear.  


_He comes._ They grinned at you, yet still fought the Zalgoid as though nothing had changed.  


Breath short and ragged, you stumbled back, certain that your allies had become possessed. The numerous voices in your head whispered louder and louder, “ _He comes. He comes!_ ” Black insects spewed from the dark mouths of the Zalgoid and your teammates. Panic quickly set in to you. With a shriek of terror, you sprayed your holy water balls at anyone nearby with those horrid faces. At this point there was no one you could trust.  


Hoodie quickly took action, tackling you to the ground as you screamed and struggled. He tried to pin you down. Those dark eyes and wide mouth of insect swarms stared you down, hissing the repeated statement. You tried to push him away, tried to roll out from under the man's weight, tried to kick him or scratch him or _something!_ Hoodie did his best to keep you under his control.  


_He comes!_ The whispers filled your head, nearly drowning out what your ears should naturally detect.  


With two of the four Proxies out of the way, your target Zalgoid now had the advantage. It grabbed Toby, using him as a shield and hostage, though it didn't plan to keep him alive. Masky instinctively spammed his gun trigger, hoping to hit the Zalgoid enough that it would drop his ally. Toby wriggled and squirmed, straining to get a hand on one of his hatchets. He bit the finger of his captor as it reached to grip his head. The Zalgoid only flinched a little, cackling at the sensation of its own pain.  


Just as Hoodie was about to knock your lights out - just as Toby's neck was about to be snapped - your master appeared behind the nearly-victorious demon. Slenderman's usually neat and clean attire was now tattered and torn. He had scrapes of various depths on his head and neck – none too deep. The tall man's long, black tendrils were gripping tight to another Zalgoid behind him. This demon seemed to have had better days. Its limbs were bending this way and that, mangled like a tossed-out marionette. Despite all this, the Zalgoid was heaving a maniacal laugh as though it were busy with a tickling session.  


Slenderman ended that with an abrupt snap of the horned creature's neck. The body went limp.  


Without wasting a second, your master tossed his kill aside and gripped his new target's head with a single large hand. His bony fingers sank deep into the Zalgoid's eyes, bursting them and pushing out the jelly that once gave them shape. A scream escaped the demon, escalating into a cackle when it dropped Ticci Toby from its grip.  


Meanwhile, you continued to struggle under Hoodie. There was a strength building inside you, and Hoodie was getting desperate. Your screams annoyed him the most, but he had a sure feeling of what was wrong with you. The whispers were practically gibberish now. You knew what they said, but they were at such various intervals and great volumes that you anticipated your head would explode at any moment.  


_He comes!_  


A single voice tried to contact you from beyond the whispers. It was a familiar, soothing voice – cool milk to your burning mind. It called for you, but you could barely hear it. “____.” You tried to focus on the voice, your struggles with Hoodie subsiding. He slowly backed away from you, looking over his shoulder and nodding.  


Then, like a fleeting bird, the voices stopped. All that was left to fill your sense of hearing was the sound of reality. Yours and Hoodie's heavy breaths, the crackling of the nearby fires, the tiny ringing in your ears. Your eyes wandered, trying to gather if the eyes and mouths you had seen were ever really there. So far, you could see them – even on Slenderman's otherwise empty face – the insects no longer escaping the mouths like endless streams.  


Altogether, though, the collection of voices from earlier announced in unison like a grandeur horn, “ _He is here!_ ” You felt a headache forming.  


Hoodie whipped his head around to gawk at something. Slenderman, Masky, Toby, even the Zalgoid in your master's grip all froze and turned their attention to a singular direction. You followed their gaze, only to instantly wish you hadn't.  


Farthest from you, off to the sidelines of the battleground, there was a large, dark blob contorting and shifting on the ground. Six mouths upon this chaotic mass rambled on and on together in a mess of gibberish. A seventh mouth remained closed, patiently waiting for its turn. The air around this _thing_ seemed to distort similarly to waves of radiating heat.  


As you gazed on in horror, Slenderman's voice called to you from within your mind. If it wasn't for his oddly soothing tone, you would have surely jolted from your thoughts. “____, answer your master.”  


You did. “I hear you,” you tried your best to reply respectfully within your mind, but it was difficult for you to think properly. Slenderman seemed to understand this. “M-master,” you continued, finding yourself, “What is that?” No matter how hard you willed yourself, you couldn't seem to avert your eyes from the maddening sight before you.  


“That is our enemies' leader,” Slenderman replied coldly. “ _Zalgo._ ”  


By this point, the gibbering blob had begun taking shape, rising upward and stretching into a humanoid form. Each mouth adjusted to a suitable place. The silent mouth centered itself over Zalgo's chest. Crevasses of glowing red marks etched his body. A pair of great bull horns branched up- and forward. He had no eyes, only set of tiny slits for nostrils and a grinning mouth of pearly fangs. In his right hand, a dead star rested; in his left, Zalgo gripped a blood-stained candle lit by shadows.  


Zalgo silenced all of his chattering mouths, then spoke through the one upon his face. “We are gathered here today,” he sneered, “to _tickle_ your _dicks_.”  


From nearby, you noticed Sexual-Offenderman cringe and weave his white tendrils into a makeshift protective underwear to cover his nether regions. All of your allies began putting away their weapons or simply shifting into a mild defensive stance. You decided to do the same, not wanting to be the one who screws up the possible truce. Still, there were questions you needed answering. Hoping that Slenderman was still holding a mental connection with his Proxies, you thought your concerns to him, “What's wrong with everyone's faces? Even yours has these dark eyes and mouths. Is this something the Zalgoids did?”  


Your master's voice sternly stated, “Don't worry about those hallucinations; ignore them. I will explain it all when we've returned to safety.” That only put you a little at ease. If Slenderman wasn't concerned with what you were seeing, then it wasn't going to harm you – physically. All you had to do was ignore it, right? Easier said than done.  


“The _fuck_ are you doing with your Minions on Slender territory, Zalgo?” Now that you noticed, Sexual-Offenderman looked incredibly ticked off. It was obviously difficult for him to keep his tendrils around his groin as they slithered with fury, wriggling with the energy to strike.  


Three other forms inched closer to the Slender brother, catching your eye. Two women and a man; they looked human enough, so you assumed they were Smexy's Proxies. The man wore a black hoody, though the hood was down. You could see his shaggy brown hair that was matted in sweat and blood. Strapped to his back was a black katana. One of the women were draped in a black sheet of fabric, wearing bright, pink high-heels. She had odd hair – long and blue with a golden stripe down the center of it. From the distance between you, there was just barely a noticeable line along the side of her face that hinted she was wearing a mask. (You weren't exactly facing each other, either.) The second woman looked a little younger. Her hair was a darker blue than her teammate, and cut into a short bob with a long, thin ponytail. She seemed to be clad in a short, dark, corseted dress. Surely it wasn't comfortable to perform hard labor in, but now wasn't the time to judge outfits.  


Shouldn't there be a fourth Proxy? You glanced around the area to see if everyone was present.  


“Can't I send a party invitation without confrontation?” Zalgo shrugged and raised his hands in a sort of innocent play.  


“We have no interest in your 'party', Zalgo,” Slenderman warned the demon horror.  


Zalgo twirled his hands, and like a magic trick, his star and candle were gone. “You're right. We have such contradicting tastes in fun, how could I be so inconsiderate?”  


Spitting near his feet, Sexual-Offenderman was having none of it. “You know damn well this has nothing to do with a party!”  


With a look of shock and confusion, Zalgo gasped at the accusation. “Dear me, you're right! Minions! We've been exposed! I declare a tactical retreat!” He didn't waste any time to collapse back into his mucus-like form. The minions who still remained alive – all 3 of them – sprinted toward their Lord, combining with him. Zalgo spoke once more as his gelatinous form dissolved into the ground, “You can keep the corpses. I hear they're great for candles.”  


Everyone watched, waiting for confirmation that Zalgo and his kind were truly gone.  


You watched the faces of your allies, seeing the hallucinations fade away. A sigh of relief escaped you, happy to see even Jeff with his regular cut up face. In your moment of respite, you barely heard Sexual-Offenderman's furious growl forewarn his outburst of rage.  


“That piece of shit!” Smexy lashed out a tendril to nearby burning tree, making it explode into ashen debris. He fell to his hands and knees, punching the earth as he grimaced. “He's picking off our Proxies!” It was then that you noticed the gore-infested corpse that the Slender-being was hovering over. The three non-Zalgoids you had recently noticed stood close by in reverence, hanging their heads as if all of this was their fault.  


“It seems to be the case,” Slenderman remained in his place.  


Seed Eater, Bridget, Isadora, and Cat solemnly approached their landlord. You could see the far deeper connection and care that this group had for each other. Even the Proxies were mourned. Part of you wondered if your death would be grieved, while the other part wondered if the Proxy before you had simply been forgotten and tossed aside.  


The Zalgoid corpses were disposed of – tossed across the territory line. Slenderman had no interest in them since he had performed more than enough studies in the past. Everyone was returned to their residences. Your housemates and master left Sexual-Offenderman and his crew to their own devices. You wanted to get to know the other Proxies you had seen, but the current situation prevented that. Slenderman had no interest in attending a Proxy's funeral. Hopefully, you would meet them properly in the near future.  


Your shower was all too refreshing. The soot and grime from today's events washed away after a thick lathering of luxuriously scented soap. You had to admit that despite the way Proxies were viewed in Slenderman's mansion, he still was a great guy for letting them partake in the extravagance he provided. The scar Eyeless Jack had given you was healing nicely. Your fingers ran over the tick scar on your lower abdomen several times, mentally studying it. Hopefully, it would fully heal and no longer be visible at some point.  


After setting your Proxy uniform washing on a gentle cycle, you adjusted your sweatpants and shirt for the millionth time and headed for the living room. There you found the entire household reclined or standing as though waiting for your appearance.  


Slenderman gestured for you to find a seat, “While the outcome of our recent mission was inevitable, I would like to address a fatal flaw that reared its ugly head during the brawl.” He watched you shyly settled down on the thin arm of the couch. Its actual cushions were claimed by Jeff, Hoodie, BEN, and Toby. You noticed Masky had isolated himself on a nearby armchair. The two Jacks were idly doting around with the bookshelves.  


“Is this about the hallucinations?” The words slipped your tongue faster than you could think about it. Oddly enough, you weren't punished for your utterance. Perhaps your master understood just how mentally scarred you would be from the effects of the Zalgoids.  


With a nod, Slenderman confirmed your inquiry. “It was my mistake to allow you into the mission without forewarning of the Zalgoids' passive abilities on humans. I'm sure if you knew beforehand of what was to come, you would have handled yourself better.” You gulped and nodded, shooting an apologetic glance to Hoodie, especially.  


The yellow-clad man shrugged at you, “No one was hurt by it, so I'd say there's nothing to get worked up about.”  


“Sp-speak for yourself!” Ticci Toby leaned forward to eye Hoodie. “I almost got m-my neck ripped off!”  


“But you _didn't_ ,” Hoodie retorted.  


“It was p-pretty damn close!”  


“Masky had your back.”  


“ _Enough!_ ” Slenderman rumbled. The bickering Proxies went silent, cowering back into their seats. “Regardless, I will not allow this to happen again. I've assembled you here to confirm that everyone present knows of what the Zalgoids a capable of, human or not.”  


Laughing Jack strolled over to lean on the back of the couch. “It's been a while since I've seen a Proxy go bonkers over Zalgoid hallucinations. I wouldn't mind refreshing.”  


And so you did.  


Well, _they_ did. You were introduced and lectured about Zalgoids into further detail than what was previously given to you.  


Zalgoids were a hive-mind type of race. They often shared a similar color scheme of black and red shades, though there are the uncommon ones with other hues. All Zalgoids had more than one mouth; each of these mouths were capable of speaking in a different language. Zalgo, however, had one mouth that has yet to be seen open. If it were to part its lips and sing its song, legend tells that the world would surely come to an end.  


As for the hallucinations, it was clarified to you that all Zalgoids have a passive energy that is potent to humans. It causes the victim to see horrors of similar magnitude – hollow eyes, gaping mouths, and deafening whispers of Zalgo's approach. No doubt, if a Zalgoid has found you, its Lord isn't far behind. Depending on the intensity of the Zalgoid energy, its victim will see dark insects spewing from the gaping mouths that it views. Further intensity leads to the edges of one's vision slowly darkening into a tunnel vision like vines crawling over your eyes and snatching away your sight. If one allows themselves to become consumed by the hallucinations, they most often lose their sanity to the point of becoming similar to an SCP.  


“Ferals,” Jeff shivered.  


You arched a brow at everyone, putting together the pieces that you weren't sure were fitting. “Are the SCPs the result of Zalgoid hallucinations?”  


“Nah,” BEN answered. “Anyone who's gone crazy from 'The Darkness' usually ends up dead.”  


A lump formed in your throat, to which you swallowed in an effort to sooth your nerves. “L-like, you had to _put them down_ dead?”  


“If you mean they put themselves down, then yeah,” Hoodie replied.  


You mouthed an Oh as your gaze fell to the floor, imagining yourself falling victim to insanity-by-Darkness. How violently would you go out? What route of suicide would you choose during that time of madness?  


“You know,” Jeff grumbled, “us Creepypastas might be psychopaths, compared to your typical humans, but we're stable as _fuck_ when standing next to a Darkness victim.” He wrung his hands tightly, probably recalling a time when he had witnessed one of these victims. “Even the SCPs aren't crazy enough to damage themselves just because they exist.”  


It was quiet for a moment. Something told you that everyone, save for yourself, was thinking of the same person. You weren't sure if they were mourning him or fearfully recalling the events of his last moments. It was probably best that you didn't know.  


Jeff broke the mood when he stood up, “Okay, well, if that's everything, I'm gonna go...” His voice trailed off in slurs as he stumbled and collapsed at Slenderman's feet. The tall being quickly crouched and rolled Jeff over.  


The room grew into an uproar as BEN and the Jacks cursed up a storm.  


“I told him he needed to stay out of this mission!”  


“You know _damn_ well Jeff wasn't gonna miss out on getting revenge!”  


“Just shut up and do your doctor shit!”  


You scrambled off of the couch arm and gave everyone space. Your fellow Proxies had done the same, knowing that they had no influence to this situation.  


“His scar ripped open. We need to sew him up again.”  


“I thought this was Zalgoid blood!”  


“You idiot! Zalgoids have black blood!”  


Slenderman, BEN, Laughing Jack, and Eyeless Jack disappeared together. Most likely, they had slender-walked to the medical room. You looked over the couch to where Jeff had fallen, only to see a thick stain of blood soaked into the carpet.  


Masky approached you, decked out in relaxed clothing like you. “How's your wound? Are we going to have any more surprise drama?”  


Shaking your head, you rested a hand over your scar. “I should ask you the same thing.” You heard the man release and nasal exhale. It was obvious that the two of you would have already been down for the count much sooner than Jeff, if that were the case.  


“You're gonna be sore tomorrow. Find plenty of protein-enriched food and water before you go to bed.” Masky walked past you, heading to the kitchen to practice what he preached. You assured him that you would when your stomach settled some more. It was still feeling tight from all the anxiety brought on by the day.  


Glancing to a nearby window, you saw just how dim the forest was getting. Evening was setting in quickly. Where did the day go, exactly? The thudding of Toby and Hoodie's boots faded as they left the living room to do whatever they did in their free time. You were left alone to your own devices.  


Right now, you weren't sure if that was for the best. For every answer you received, two more questions boggled your mind. All you wanted was vengeance on the people who had wronged you, but now you were stuck in the middle of a war. Neither side really seemed like the righteous one, either. That fact probably scared you the most.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some slow-paced stuff here, but you get more questions answered.

With the silence of the mansion's first floor filling your ears, you had a chance to actually sit back and graze over all that had happened so far. The very knowledge of your possible future as a slave had you falling mentally exhausted. Physically, your muscles were starting to ache – the adrenaline wearing out of your body. You decide it best to get to bed right away. Evening was closing in. You hoped to sleep heavily for the night.  


Almost as soon as your head made contact with the pillow, you dozed off into comfort and relaxation. Your mind gave in to the arduous trials of the day.  


You were doing well, in terms of sleeping heavily. The majority of your dreams were full of random events and characters – your typical theme – to which you barely noticed passed by.  


Some time during the night, though, a far more powerful dream slithered into your mind. It crawled on to your just as sinister and mysterious as your master. You barely noticed the dream was happening until you felt the familiar weight and ferocity of Slenderman's body on top of yours. You could smell the fabric of his colors, the heat of his breath. He slimy tongue was exploring your neck again, and your ears rumbled at the sound of his pleased growls.  


A clawed hand traced over your bare skin, pushing up your sweatshirt. The fingers became familiar with the shape of your rib cage, shying away from the edges of your breasts. All the while, you could only watch with wide eyes. Your limbs refused to move at your command; not even the urge to flinch a muscle would respond. You could hear something – panting – coming from you. Air rushed in and out of your throat. Slenderman didn't seem to notice, if he even cared.  


From the sounds of your rapid breathing, you recognized familiar whispering. The hisses of incoherent words slowly accumulated. You soon noticed your master's once empty face now had a pair of hollow black eye sockets. Whispers of darkness flickered out from them. He looked oblivious to the sudden gain of new orifices in his head as he continued to explore your body.  


Above the jumbled whispers, you heard Slenderman demand his usual from you, “What am I to you?” His mouth, black and pouring out darkness, motioned accordingly to his words.  


At this point, you didn't even care what Slenderman was doing to you. The effects of this Darkness was far more concerning. You tried to call out to him, only to feel your voice blocked by something. This only panicked you further, causing you to hyperventilate and try with all you could to scream.  


Things spiraled out of control. Rather than looking concerned, Slenderman became malicious. It was as though the Darkness had taken control of him! He raised a hand, aiming it at you with his bony fingers. Your master's growl joined with the now deafening whispers. You tried again and again to gain results from yourself; scream, yell, swing an arm, kick a leg – anything! All you could do was watch with unblinking eyes as Slenderman plunged his hand into your stomach and ripped out your organs. The burning sensation in your gut was the final straw.  


You jolted in your bed, screaming in protest as you tried to fight off your master.  


The tall being's form only faded away. It wasn't like his usual way of sudden disappearance. You stared after him, though. Expecting the being to come back. Your lungs heaved air in and out, trying to catch your breath. It was quickly apparent to you that your intestines were still in place. There wasn't even a mark on you – aside from the scar Eyeless Jack had caused. Even so, you could still feel the burning sensation within the back of your mind.  


Glancing to your digital clock, you were disappointed to see that it was 3AM sharp. This didn't put you at ease.  


It was obvious, after your breathing had settled, that you weren't going to be sleeping again for a long while. You needed to get out of your room. It just didn't feel safe there anymore.  


You aimlessly wandered the mansion through acquainted paths, still far too apprehensive to explore new, dark places. The countless shadows peeking from every corner kept you on edge. There were times that you were sure you could see the Darkness creeping from their depths. You quickened your pace, trying to travel somewhere that had an ally you could be near.  


The first resident you discovered was BEN. He was in the living room, focused on the Majora's Mask game as he fingers pushed and tapped the controller buttons. You considered sitting with him on the couch, but you quickly recalled your first meeting with him. The thought of being set on fire again didn't appeal to you in the least. With a small cringe, you crept away from the living room doorway and traversed down the hall to reach the kitchen. Maybe a snack would help you calm down.  


Upon reaching the kitchen access, you noticed that the light was already on. You entered, finding Hoodie sitting on a bar stool at the counter. His mask was lifted just above his nose to make way for his current ingestion. He was presently taking a huge swig of liquid from a caramel-colored glass bottle. No doubt, it was beer. From the side view you had, it looked like Hoodie was in deep thought. He just stared off across the counter, not even acknowledging your presence, if he even noticed it.  


As you took a few steps into the kitchen, you decided to at least announce your existence with a subtle clear of your throat. This backfired, however, as Hoodie flinched at your abrupt noise. He adjusted his grip on the beer bottle to hold its neck, raising it above his head like a club. Hoodie turned to you with this pose, glaring you down and ready to strike. All the while, the rest of his beer was steadily pouring down his arm and splashing onto the marble floor.  


The awkward moment of staring each other down was nothing less. Thankfully, Hoodie recognized you and released a sigh. He lowered his now empty bottle and slid off the bar stool to clean up his mess with a nearby old towel.  


“Ah-um-Sorry, Hoodie,” you stammered, trying to apologize for startling the man. It didn't occur to you earlier, but there was a weight in the air. Something dark and tense. This wasn't quite the same as the Darkness you had experienced, but similar to the stress in the briefing room yesterday. It filled your lungs with a thick pressure, but you did your best to hold firm.  


With a wave of his hand, Hoodie interrupted your thoughts to brush off your apology, “You tried. I'm just on edge.” You were honestly surprised that he was being so forgiving, but you happily accepted.  


Now that the ice was broken, you moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, not feeling up to a snack anymore. “Maybe talking about it would help?” You didn't care if you would be able to help Hoodie with his problems. All you wanted was to forget about the whispers and the Darkness.  


“Nothing to talk about,” Hoodie responded. He opened a drawer and found another towel to finish his spilled beer. “It's just typical aftermath of Zalgoid encounters.”  


You paused in mid-reach for your desired bottle of water, “You're having nightmares, too?” This was the opposite of what you wanted to talk about, but maybe you could get answers.  


Wiping down his hoody sleeve, the yellow-clad man replied with a bit of disdain in his voice, “All of the Proxies do. I'm sure Masky and Toby are up somewhere.”  


“What are your dreams like?” You snatched your water bottle and closed the fridge, turning to Hoodie. You watched him toss the used towel into the sink and walk passed you to the fridge.  


Hoodie reached in and plucked another beer bottle from the large supply, “Exactly what you experience when you're awake.”  


You hesitated, still watching your teammate as you mulled over them memories of your recent nightmare. “Mine started out with,” your voice broke, embarrassed of the memories, but you admitted to them anyway, “Master acting strange in my bed.”  


Cracking open his beer on the counter edge, Hoodie returned to his stool, not bothering to keep any sort of eye contact with you. “Right. You were supposed to tell me more about that.”  


Part of you felt relief to Hoodie's recollection of the last time you tried to console in him about Slenderman's odd behavior behind closed doors. Another part of you kind of hoped he didn't know what you were talking about, and the both of you could just ignore it all together. Still, you pressured yourself to gather your thoughts and sum up your experiences with your master. “He always does this when I'm in bed,” you slowly strode over to Hoodie's side, “He'll lick me and insist I call him 'master' a few times.” You leaned on the counter and traced your fingers over your still unopened water bottle.  


By this point, Hoodie had turned his head to you, staring you down. From the slight contortion of his exposed lips, you could see his vague disgust at your words. He hadn't even taken a sip of his beer yet.  


Eventually, the silence was broken when Hoodie turned his head away from you, breathing out a, “What the fuck?”  


Your chest tightened at Hoodie's delayed reaction. From all the talk about how Proxies were practically slaves, you partially had assumed that it was normal for the Slender family to borderline molest you – regardless of gender. Hoodie's reaction dowsed that idea, though. You were here, singled out, and being handled by your master quite differently than your fellow Proxies. Still, you wanted confirmation. You needed Hoodie to tell you directly if what you thought was true, “S-so that's not normal?”  


“Shit no,” Hoodie took a large swig of his beer, probably trying to swallow the situation whole.  


“W-well, what do I do?!”  


Hoodie fell silent, pondering the possibilities.  


Whether it was impatience, panic, or both, you came to your own conclusion, “Maybe I should confront him-”  


“No.” Hoodie interjected. He gripped his beer bottle tightly. “As Proxies, we don't get to question his authority.” There was a hint of defeat in his voice. For a brief moment, you saw Masky sitting next to you, and pity filled your eyes.  


With a sigh and what fight you had left within, you replied, “It's more sexual harassment than authority, though.”  


Swirling his gloved thumb over the glass bottle, Hoodie mumbled something in reply, “Haven't . . . women . . . since I . . . Proxy.” You only heard bits and pieces, but even those you weren't sure you had heard correctly. In response, you urged Hoodie to repeat himself more clearly, but he just shrugged you off with, “Nothing,” and sipped his beer.  


There were several long moments of silence after this. Just the two of you sipping on your drinks and mulling over what you had discussed. Though you were toss glances at your yellow comrade, he never once gave you acknowledgment during that time of false peace. Hoodie seemed to be back in deep thought. Whether it was about the Darkness or Slenderman's odd behavior, you couldn't tell. For you, though, Hoodie's reaction to your statement made you nearly forget about the terrors that the Zalgoids wrecked upon your mind.  


This world of Creepypastas was a twisted sort – not that you should have expected anything less. When you had delved into the fandom through the internet, you thought yourself desensitized to the horrors that lurked in the dark. How wrong you were. Reading and listening to horror stories created fear, yes, but not true fear.  


Being here; being a part of the Creepypasta world; being a member of the lowest rank in that world; you knew true fear. Here, you knew helplessness. There are no policemen or adults to protect you. If Slenderman was feeling kind, you maybe had a chance of protection – of peace. Otherwise, even your bed wasn't a sanctuary. There was danger around every corner, every nook and cranny of your mind.  


Rather than his more entranced sips of beer, Hoodie abruptly shoved his beer bottle into his mouth and chugged the remainder of his beverage. He got up from his seat, pulling the bottle from his mouth, and walked away to toss the container into the trash. “I have to go.”  


“Where?” You weren't sure why you bothered asking. Maybe the new urgency of his demeanor fueled your curiosity.  


Hoodie didn't turn to you, walking out of the only kitchen doorway as he retorted, “Mind your own business.”  


Gawking after the man from where you leaned on the counter, you began to consider that Hoodie had the mood swings of a pregnant woman. Perhaps that was an exaggeration.  


Once Hoodie's heavy boots faded out of hearing range, you realized that you were back to being enveloped in nearly total silence. At least when your teammate was here, you could still listen to his breathing and occasional swish of beer. The silence was quickly bothering you again. You were sure you could hear the Zalgoid whispers just barely within audible range. Panic was setting in once again.  


You straightened out from your position on the counter, taking your water with you, and began a new search for company. Maybe you would take your chances with BEN this time. At least you could listen to his game and the tapping of his controller.  


As soon as you turned the corner into the hallway, you bumped into something solid, yet covered in a layer of fabric. For no other reason than you were currently thinking about the Darkness, you assumed you had bumped into a Zalgoid. This sent your reeling back, letting out a yelp of surprise. A pair of large hands gripped your shoulders, holding you firm as you realized you were looking at no one other than your master. His voice rumbled soothingly, “You are safe here, ____. Nothing will harm you.”  


At first, you wanted to believe him, quickly gathering your wits. You remembered what Slenderman had told you before, when Eyeless Jack had tried stealing one of your kidneys. You remembered how your master told you that the residents were allowed to harass and attack the Proxies, so long as they didn't do extreme damage. A shadow fell over your eyes, knowing the truth behind Slenderman's words, “Not really.”  


“From the Zalgoids and other enemies, yes,” Slenderman clarified.  


“But not from my allies,” you craned your neck to eye the tall being coldly. It might get you into trouble, but what was the point if you were going to get hurt for being a good Proxy, anyway? “How can I be calm when I'm having to guess whether I'm going to live or die all the time?”  


You felt Slenderman's grip on your shoulders tighten, his claws threatening to dig into your flesh. He soon loosened, and you could tell your master was holding back his anger toward your attitude. You decided to stay quiet so not to push your luck, a curious and cautious knit in your brows.  


Slenderman's gaze was aimed somewhere over you, behind you. If he was staring at anything in particular, you weren't sure. There was for him to focus on at the end of the hall. “My brothers have suggested that I 'ease up' on my Proxies.” A flutter of hope tickled inside your chest. Maybe this was the moment you changed this whole mansion! Slenderman continued, “I firmly believe that regular sparring off duty will aid my Proxies to hone their skills for the real battles to come.”  


And just like that, your aspirations dissipated. Honestly, there was sound reason to your master's system. Still, there were flaws. You tried to criticize and offer solutions, “B-but, can't we just have scheduled sparring? So we can relax at some point?”  


With a dark, knowing tone, Slenderman replied, “Zalgoids don't schedule their assaults.”  


“Right,” you sighed, lowering your gaze somewhere to the floor. “Guess I'll go hide in my room until I'm done healing.” You moved to step around your master, seeing the conversation at its end. He released your shoulders, allowing you to leave.  


“You should know,” Slenderman turned to you, watching your shrinking back, “I have disclosed an event of peace within the mansion. This includes random attacks and all forms of harassment.” He waited for your reaction to this news.  


Needless to say, you were overjoyed – relieved, even – to hear this. It was a curious convenience, though, and you couldn't help but wonder if your master had done this because of you or had planned it all along?  


Turning back around, you flashed a smile to Slenderman. “How long?”  


“At least a day,” he replied. “Too many of us have injuries that require full recovery. I will inspect everyone's status by the morning and determine if this should be extended.”  


Without hesitation, you spun around on your heel and dashed to the living room. There, you found BEN still lost in his game. Now that you knew he couldn't set you on fire, you plopped back into the soft sofa and relaxed. Not once did BEN glance your way, and you were fine with this. You watched him wander the empty, twisted version of Majora's Mask. There didn't seem to be a goal to the game, but he was absorbed nonetheless.  


There you sipped at your water, watching the game without a care. Maybe later you would work on that garden some more. It'd be nice to have something fresh and edible, unlike the junk that Jeff brought home.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New character shows up. Reader gets a hearty breakfast. Slenderman has serious discussion with new character. Reader learns a decent breakdown of all the factions in the CP world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooooooooooo.  
> It was like... 2 months since the last chapter?  
> Yeah, sorry. :/  
> Luckily, I have one more semester of school, then I'll be officially done! :D Then, I gotta job search for a big-boy job, so... yeah.  
> I really appreciate everyone's patience with the story. QQ Thank you so much!

Surprisingly, two whole days passed without incident. Slenderman had extended the home truce for an extra day. With guaranteed peace, you took the opportunity to get to work on your vegetable garden. It took effort – more than you had planned – both mentally and physically. You had to research information on various produce and how best to plant them for fruitful efforts. Hopefully, you would see results within the next month or so.  


The most amusing part of it all was your master looming nearby. While otherwise creepy, his childish curiosity seemed to wash away the tall being's sinister aura. You had a feeling that Slenderman knew exactly how to garden, but much preferred to watch his Proxies learn on their own. This wasn't a life-or-death situation, after all.  


At one point, Laughing Jack had wandered outside, making his rounds to check up on injured residents. For the most part, you were healed, but the wound was originally deep and its dark, thin scar needed to be monitored until all tenderness was gone. The very moment Laughing Jack noticed that you were starting a garden, he excitedly exclaimed that he wanted you to try growing a candy tree. It was strange to see this typically jolly Creepypasta among the other murderous characters, but you didn't dare ask why he fit in so well.  


Despite your efforts to explain that candy doesn't grow on trees – or grow at all - you found yourself planting a bright, pink gumball into the earth. Jack watched with enthusiasm as you watered the freshly covered “seed”, eyes sparkling with hope. He seemed satisfied with just one, probably due to past failed attempts.  


Your nights were long and stressful. The Darkness that haunted yours and your fellow Proxies' minds didn't follow the rules of the mansion. It was a miracle if you were capable of sleeping for two straight hours. Luckily, your nightmares faded in time. Sleep became a haven once again. Even Slenderman restricted his peculiar visits in your bed.  


The third day after your first Zalgoid encounter, the truce was lifted. Everyone with known injuries had healed considerably, leaving them capable of functioning and defending themselves while in the mansion's grounds. Masky informed you that the workout routine would be continuing once the both of you were in better condition. To this, you cringed a little. At least the sore muscles faded rapidly here.  


You awoke that morning, stomach soon growling for nourishment like a wild animal. It was a challenge to ignore the hunger pains as you got ready for the day, but you managed. The kitchen was your next destination, though you weren't sure what you would find to feed yourself. Maybe you could convince Slenderman into stealing some chickens for the mansion. It'd be great to have a reliable source of eggs, at least.  


Descending the staircase, you fantasized eating a wide variety of foods; none of which you ever expected to actually experience within the mansion. That is, until you reached the hallway that led to the kitchen. It was then that you caught a faint whiff of a delicious aroma that instantly had you salivating. The further you traveled down the hall, the stronger the smell became – and the stronger your stomach rumbled for satisfaction. You could hear an effeminate humming joining in with the choir of simmering oils and chinking cookware. Memories of the few mornings that your mother actually prepared breakfast flashed over your vision, but you shook them away.  


As you turned the corner to peek into the kitchen, you caught view of the heavenly being that was so kind to – hopefully – feed you. She looked human enough, from the side view that you had. Her long, brunette hair waved down to her waist, only pulled back by a loose tie. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, thin, and just a little over average height. She was clad in black and white; an off-shoulder, white shirt covering a short black top, and a pair of black slacks.  
There were pots and pans filled with all sorts of steaming breakfast foods. Your salivation issue only worsened at the combined sight and smell of eggs, biscuits, pancakes, and other dishes you weren't quite sure off – but they looked delicious, nonetheless.  


While you wanted to walk over and greet this stranger, you reminded yourself that this wasn't a world of average humans anymore. Anyone you met from here on out was more than likely to be some sort of psychopath – if not mentally ill in some form or fashion. Instead, despite your rumbling stomach, you backed away and dashed down the hall in search of a familiar face. They would know if the woman was an ally or a trespassing enemy.  


Just reaching the foyer, Jeff the Killer appeared from around the corner. He looked sober, for once, but miserable about it. No doubt, he was going to the kitchen to get his fix.  


“Jeff!” You exclaimed, and grabbed the young man's sleeve, “There's a stranger in the kitchen!”  


With a grunt, Jeff pushed you off of him, which shouldn't have surprised you as much as it did. He sniffed the air, almost instantly drawing back his lips in disgust. A deep scowl wove into the pale brows of Jeff, and a low hiss escaped him, “Kitteh.”  


“Kitty?” You watched Jeff with searching eyes, not recalling any cats wandering around the kitchen. All you received back was a series of grumbled obscenities as the pale man stomped past you with fury all over his face. A feeling in your gut had you worried that this really was an enemy in the kitchen. Hopefully, the food isn't poisoned.  


You followed Jeff, mostly out of curiosity. It was then that you recalled Masky explaining Slenderman's ever-watching eye over the entirety of the mansion. Surely, if that were true, then this stranger would have been evicted for ill will. Yet, here she was, still cooking and ignoring Jeff's hostile insults and threats.  


“This isn't your house, you crazy bitch!” Jeff sounded like he had an old hatred for this Kitteh. “You can't just show up and start cooking whenever you want!” He also kept his distance, for the time being, but did his best to look intimidating. During all his nagging, though, Jeff casually moved to the refrigerator and retrieved a can of beer. Was this a common occurrence between the two?  


Kitteh stopped humming, but never bothered to give Jeff the courtesy of eye contact, “So? I'm sure everyone else appreciates something good to eat once in a while; but you don't appreciate anything, so you wouldn't understand.”  


At that, things really heated up in the already warm kitchen. Jeff was in the midst of cracking open his beer, only to crush it within his hand in response to Kitteh's retort. Beer went spraying in all directions.  


“Aw, did the dog make a mess? Weren't you trained to go outside?” Kitteh's taunting words only egged the man on. She didn't seem concerned for her safety in the least.  


With his newfound fury, Jeff tossed the can aside and rushed toward the woman – only to make a fool of himself and slip in his own spill. The man went colliding with the tiled floor and you were sure you heard his nose crunch upon impact. This didn't stop Jeff from spewing out further come-backs to Kitteh, “GAH! You shut your whore mouth! One day, I'm gonna rip you to pieces!” He hunched over, one hand holding his face. From the doorway that you hid by, you could just see shades of red mix with the wheat-yellow beer on the tiles.  


At this, you rushed to Jeff's side and tried your best not to slip, too. You grabbed an elbow and began to help Jeff up, but he lashed out at you. “Don't touch me, you little shit!” His violently shook arm shoved you away with an, “Oomph!”.  


Even though you should have known he would do that, there was hurt in your eyes. You were the one being kind to Jeff, yet he ignored that fact. A small burning within you wanted to attack the man. Maybe you would lacerate his skin and pour beer all over the wounds. Maybe you could just repeatedly smash that stupid nose of his onto the floor. Maybe you could do both!  


Kitteh's startled gasp broke your infuriated plots. “You would dare hit a child? No wonder everyone hates you!” In moments, the woman was at your side and pulling you into a warm hug. “Don't worry, I won't let that thing touch you,” she cooed and petted your head. There was a strong, motherly aura to Kitteh. You hoped that was a good thing. “Come on,” she said, ushering you to the dining table in the separate room, “let's get you some breakfast.” You obeyed without question, glancing at Jeff's hunched form as he began to straighten out.  


Upon being seated at the rather massive dining table, Ticci Toby and Masky entered the room through a door across from you. They didn't seem concerned with Kitteh's presence, nor Jeff's disheveled condition. A smorgasbord of food was soon spread out over the table. Most of the household had gathered around the dining table the moment they caught wind of Kitteh's home cooking. Jeff had to wait until he had permission to join the others, which made you wonder just how powerful this woman was.  


Your tall master eventually showed up once everyone had piled their plates and began filling their stomachs. Kitteh hummed to herself at the sink, cleaning the cookware she had soiled. Slenderman showed no interest in the food before him.  


“I appreciate your convenient appearance, Kitteh,” Slenderman called to the woman from his position at the kitchen archway. “We have matters to discuss.”  


“You mean like that new Proxy of yours that you never told me about?” Kitteh sounded annoyed. Still, she continued washing the dishes by hand. Your master didn't respond. “She's just a child, Slender!”  


You stole a glance at your master's wake, trying to understand why he was silently taking the nagging of this strange woman. The slender-being's lacking face did nothing to answer your internal questions. He seemed indifferent to Kitteh; only waiting for her to conclude her rant about having a Proxy of your age.  


After a moment of silence between the two, Slenderman began, “We have a dilemma more concerning than my new Proxy and her age.” He moved to Kitteh, becoming less audible to everyone in the dining room. You strained your ears to listen as you carefully chewed. “There's been another casualty to the Proxies – this time, on Sexual-Offenderman's group. These random Zalgoid 'strolls' are becoming increasingly frequent.”  


Kitteh hummed in thought for a moment, just loud enough for you to hear. “You're recruiting allies, huh? I've already told you that this is none of my business.”  


“Yet you drop by to feed my residents as though you've already chosen a faction.”  


“I did. I'm neutral, remember? A Watcher.”  


“And what do you plan to do when Zalgo begins attacking you?”  


There was silence, then. Not even the sound of thumping dishes in the sink's warm water. You glanced around the table to see if anyone else was listening with you. Everyone had been doing the same as you – dining as quietly as possible to listen to the conversation beyond the walls.  


With a sigh of denied defeat, Kitteh finally replied, “Fine. I'll help out the Slender family; but only out of concern for that poor child you've dragged into this.”  


Slenderman chuckled at this, “Wouldn't Sally have been enough, then?”  


“While she's still an adorable little dear,” you heard Kitteh coo at the mention of an unfamiliar Creepypasta, “she isn't nearly as defenseless as a human.”  


The rest of their time in the kitchen consisted of minor chatter – mostly of Kitteh bickering about the lack of fresh food she witnessed when she got here. She, of course, blamed that entirely on Jeff. Mumbled insults caught your ear from a corner seat furthest from the dining room-kitchen archway. When you glanced in their direction, you found Jeff shoving fork-loads of breakfast into his mouth. Unfortunately, some partially chewed contents seeped from the extended corners of his mouth, which began to turn your stomach at the sight.  


After some time, closer toward finishing breakfast, you finally asked the table about the Watchers you had overheard being mentioned. “How many are there?”  


Laughing Jack was the first to answer, explaining that there was an indefinite number of Creepypastas in existence. Slenderman tries to keep a catalog updated as new Creepypastas are encountered by allies. “The library has half a wall dedicated to the books he's filled,” Laughing Jack said, raising his eyebrows in emphasis.  


“I wish he'd just put it all on a computer file,” BEN added. “He's spent way too much time rewriting entire catalogs just to enter new information.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head with exasperation.  


“Okay,” you knitted your brows, “but what about the factions. I keep hearing about new ones all the time.”  


The table decided now was a good time to lay out the entire map for you, so to speak. So, as you and your housemates nibbled at the remnants of breakfast, you were lectured on the Creepypasta world and its factions.  


There was the Slender Family, of course. The four leading heads of that faction were the brothers: Slenderman, Sexual-Offenderman, Splendorman, and Trenderman, respectfully. They prefer order and punctuality, though this could be loosely agreed upon for the allies. This was one of the two factions of high sentience.  


The other being the Zalgoids. They were ruled by Zalgo, and they leaned toward chaos, destruction, and unwavering obedience to him. Only two beings were a step below Zalgo's throne: Iris and Anastasia. They were his two most loyal – and powerful – followers. The rest of the Zalgoids were generally known as Minions, though they had names of their own.  


You had heard about the SCPs – Savage Creepypastas. They were just as they had been classified: savage, feral, dangerous. None of the other factions enjoyed dealing with the SCPs. Zalgoids could be reasoned with, despite their chaotic nature, but SCPs were ferocious to the end. Some resembled animals, while others were more humanoid. All that being said, the SCPs had no leader, doing as they please. Whether that be wandering around and searching blindly for food, or hiding away in their territory until an unfortunate being stumbles upon them, it didn't make a difference.  


The last faction you learned about were The Watchers. While they don't claim to be an official faction, these neutral Creepypastas became labeled as such due to obvious reasons. Not all Creepypastas wanted to deal with war and sides, nor did everyone have the same ideals as the Zalgoids or Slender Family. Rather than dealing with either faction's requirements of protection and such, the Watchers preferred to stay out of it all as much as possible. Still, many did lean closer toward the Slender Family's ideals, which lead to spontaneous visits here and there by such beings. Kitteh, for instance, often drops by to check on the much younger Creepypastas. Other times, she visits out of boredom.  


So far, there were three other Watchers who favored the Slender Family. While they didn't visit like Kitteh, they were potential allies. There was Chromatic Scales, a ghost Lyrical Griffin. She's known to remain in one area, singing pleasant melodies to draw in prey. Another was a mutated human known as Smoke. His abilities revolve around his themed name. (Here, Jeff interjected that Smoke was much less masculine in person than his name let on.) From experiences, the Slender Family found him to be extremely reluctant to trust newcomers, but Slenderman sees potential. The fourth Watcher was known as Hailey; a young, deceased girl who now haunts closets. If it weren't for her otherwise docile personality, most would label Hailey as an SCP. Luckily, she's capable of holding sophisticated conversations, so long as her anxieties aren't triggered.  


This was a lot of information to process. It gave you a much larger picture of the Creepypasta world, though. Pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place.  


Once everyone's bellies were full of a fresh, warm meal, the dining room was gradually tidied up. Kitteh and Slenderman were nowhere to be seen. Most likely, they were continuing their political discussions elsewhere.  


“Damn woman barges into our house, makes a mess in the kitchen, then forces us to clean it all up,” Jeff grumbled as he helped with the dishes. No one bothered to retort to his ungrateful complaining. You figured it was routine by now, seeing as how he and Kitteh were acting when you first met her.  


Masky stopped at your side, placing another stack of plates on the counter. You had been stuck to washing the dishes; Toby was on drying duty; Hoodie put everything away. “Did everyone get our master's message?” Masky inquired.  


“Yup,” Ticci Toby affirmed.  


“Yeah,” Hoodie replied.  


“No?” You eyed Masky with curiosity. “What message?”  


A faint grunt rumbled from Masky's throat, “Hm. You must not be attuned enough to him.” When you continued to give the man perplexed looks, he lightly sighed and continued, “We're gonna be running through a training exercise today. It's to help with our teamwork and sensitivity to Slenderman's mental projections.” You noticed Masky's hands clench at the mention of the latter.  


“Oh,” you went back to washing dishes, noticing that you were holding up progress. “Where are we going for this?”  


“Hey!” Jeff shoved Masky aside and dropped his stack of pots and plates onto the counter. “Quit slacking! I wanna get out of here so I can go slaughter!” He grumbled something obscene about the four of you as he stormed away, allowing Laughing Jack, Eyeless Jack, and BEN to add their armfuls of dishes in the quickly growing collection.  


You stared at Masky, who watched the Creepypastas walk away as though this was a normal thing. Sadly, it was.  


Masky began arranging the dirty kitchenware so that they wouldn't avalanche on you as they were dwindled away. “We'll be going back to Sexual-Offenderman's motel. It's pretty normal for us to spar with other Proxies. Not sure if there's any particular reason why we're going against these guys, though. They'll be short one Proxy, since. . .” Masky trailed off in thought. You knew he was talking about the Proxy that had died during that fight with the Zalgoids.  


The rest of the time was pretty quiet, aside from Jeff's nagging. As soon as the table was cleared and cleaned, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinets and left. The Jacks and BEN disappeared, too, though not as eager to ingest alcohol. Your teammates and yourself continued with the kitchen's scrub-down. It wasn't until half an hour later that the deed was done.  


With a relieved sigh, Toby leaned back on the counter, “Man, I l-love when Kit-t-teh cooks for us, b-but she's gotta stop-p making such a mess!”  


Everyone collectively agreed.  


“You should know by now that nothing is for free,” Slenderman's low voice lectured, catching his Proxies' attention. He stood at the kitchen doorway, Kitteh no longer with him. “Prepare yourselves for the sparring. You have ten minutes.”  


The men nodded and rushed past their master. You followed just behind, glancing up at Slenderman's towering form as you passed. He seemed to watch you, examine you. There wasn't an air of warning surrounding him, which you were thankful for.  


Within the armory room, you were handed, of all things, Nerf guns. For melee weapons, there were sturdy foam replicas, which looked severely worn, but still functional. It quickly occurred to you that safety was a concern between allies, which was a relief. At least you didn't have to worry about suffering new wounds so soon. Given the situation with the Zalgoids, more injuries – and deaths – were the last thing the Slender Family needed right now.  


“I st-till think we should st-tart a LARP g-group. We have everyt-thing for it,” Ticci Toby mused as the four of you regrouped with Slenderman in your new gear.  


Everyone rolled their eyes, though partially interested in going through with Toby's idea.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerf guns and LARP daggers.  
> You also get to meet Smexy's Proxies.

Black vines, physical contact, a disarming change in all your senses; the Slender-walk had a pattern, and you’d be damned if you didn’t get used to it sooner, rather than later. You found yourself, and your group, in Sexual-Offenderman’s motel lobby once gain. The thin smell of cigarettes flickered over your nostrils.  


“Since this is ____’s first team spar,” Slenderman broke the silence, “I will lay down the rules.” Your teammates were already unstrapping their guns, readying for immediate action. “The second floor of the motel is off limits to this exercise. Sexual-Offenderman and I will be monitoring our respective Proxies and relay to whether or not you should continue fighting. If we command “down” to you, then you are considered deceased until the next round.  


“Do your best to figuratively kill the other team of Proxies with the faux weapons provided. If a fight comes down to overpowering each other, remember to pull your punches, so to speak. Causing literal harm to your opponents will be frowned upon, save for bruising and minor injuries - these are expected.  


“The goal is to essentially kill the other team. Use communication and teamwork to succeed and learn each other’s importance. Be sure to take mental notes of how your opponents function. There will be times when we’ll have to work together, as you,” here, Slenderman tilted his head in your directly, “would have experienced, were it not for the Darkness.” You weren’t sure if he was blaming you, or simply making a note.  


“Begin,” Slenderman made quick contact with his Proxies once again, initiating his more in-depth telepathy for communication later on.  


Hoodie, Masky, and Ticci-Tobi rushed down a hall, the rickety metal door whining as it permitted entrance. You chased after, having zero clue as to what their plan was. The eccentric steps of your team’s boots echoed through the motel hallway. Shortly up ahead was another set of double doors. Masky quickened his pace, leaving the rest of you behind, and checked through the small, rectangular windows. He craned his head over his shoulder and gave the “all clear” nod. Ticci-Toby, Hoodie, and yourself crouched behind Masky as he cracked open one of the doors to listen outside.  


Speaking in a hushed tone, Hoodie brought up what everyone else had been pondering, “Didn’t one of Offender’s Proxies die recently? That means it’ll be four of us against three of them.”  


“I bet Smexy’s already got a new P-proxy,” Toby amusedly implied.  


“Well, master didn’t say anything about it,” Hoodie argued.  


You listened to the conversation, knitting your brows at the unknown information. “We’ll just have to keep on our toes as if there are four.” Toby jolted his head in your direction, almost surprised that you had spoken.  


“The plan,” Hoodie instructed, “is to keep you guarded while you also watch our back. We’ll have to move close together until you actually know what you’re doing.” He had a bit of venom in his voice, as though he resented your ineptitude.  


Masky pushed open one of the doors, “Let’s go.” He seemed indifferent to the passive-aggressive insults thrown at you. Unfortunately, Hoodie was right; you didn’t know how to work in a team, much less during combat. Still, he could have made it sound less like you were a burden.  


There wasn’t much to search on the first floor’s outdoor walkway. Several rooms lined the front of the building, but most of them were empty. Each time a room was opened, Masky peeked through the windows and listened through the doors. As soon as the door was thrown open, everyone aimed their guns into the room and hoped for the best. This was all followed by a thorough room check while Masky stood guard at the doorway. Under the bed, behind the shower curtain, in the vents; your team didn’t leave a single crevasse unchecked.  


One of the rooms did leave you shaken up, though the rest of your team seemed neutral. Even with Masky guarding the door, you had exited the tiny bathroom to find a young, prepubescent girl standing in the center of the motel room. She stared at you with unnaturally large, cerulean blue eyes. Her long, light, brunette hair was tied into a pair of pigtails. She wore a simple pink, short-sleeved dress. When you screeched out in surprise, firing a few rounds of Nerf bullets at the girl, the last thing you noticed was how her exposed skin was covered in various scars. She disappeared before the bullets could hit her or the men could whip around and see her.  


You took in the leftover scents of blood and lavender, staring at the emptiness that was once occupied by the mysterious girl.  


“The f-fuck is your p-problem?” Ticci-Toby stood up from checking the bed, “You can’t-t just scream when you see an enemy. You’ll give away our posi-tion, idiot.”  


Lowering your Nerf rifle, you pleaded innocence, “There was a girl! She was in the middle of the room!”  


All three of the men exchanged glances, running their minds through what they knew of Sexual-Offenderman’s Proxies. They all had the same question, “How old did she look?” You explained that the girl was maybe only around 10 or 12 years of age. This only caused your team to look even more confused.  


_“Masky has been injured on his right leg,”_ came Slenderman’s voice. He was nowhere to be seen, but you heard him. This had Masky look down to his indicated appendage, only to find one of your nerf bullets lying on the floor. He didn’t look pleased.  


“Well, mast-ter doesn’t seem concerned ab-bout the girl,” Toby shrugged.  


“I think you just saw the new Proxy,” Hoodie noted in your direction.  


This had you wondering aloud what you had been told in the past, “I thought Proxies were only humans?”  


“Mostly,” was the only reply that you received.  


As the four of you moved on to the next room, you noticed Masky walking with a limp. It was almost amusing how serious everyone took this sparring match.  


The process of searching continued.  


This time, it didn’t take long before there was another interruption. As soon as your team moved into the room, an effeminate voice pouted from outside, “I see Slenderman still has all of you whipped like soldiers.” Her voice had an echo to it, much like Masky’s.  


All of you spun around and readied your guns toward the target. She was taller and looked older than the girl from before. In fact, you’d seen this woman during the fight with the Zalgoids. She had blue hair with an off-centered vertical stripe. The mask she wore was about the same color as her own skin, which was a light peach tone. On the mask were a pair of upward curved eyes, just as you had seen in the animes when character were happy; on each cheek of the mask were pink handprints. You quickly recognized the black blanket wrapped around the woman’s body like a mysterious cape.  


“The party’s this way, boys,” with her pink heels tapping the concrete walkway, the woman scampered away to further unsearched reaches of the motel territory.  


After the clicking of her heels faded, your team stared in her direction. Masky peeked outside to make sure no one else would show up unannounced.  


“Well, that’s a trap,” Hoodie bluntly stated.  


“Yeah, no shit. It’s what-t she does,” Toby sassed.  


“Who was that?” You inquired, seeing as how the men actually knew this Proxy.  


Masky leaned against the doorframe, keeping his head aimed outside, “Isikam Isiko. She’s a lure and close-combatant.” With a hefty sight, he straightened himself out and adjusted his Nerf gun. “We don’t have much a choice but to follow. They’re probably waiting.”  


You held in the thought that maybe your team wasn’t all that skilled, compared to Sexual-Offenderman’s Proxies. Why else would they tease the group like this? As much as you wanted to ask about it, you knew better than to question the skills of your superiors, even if they were Proxies like yourself.  


In the end, the four of you headed off in Isikam’s leading direction. Masky scouted ahead several feet, but remained in sight of the team. You were positioned between Hoodie and Toby, while Hoodie brought of the rear of the group. All of this protection over you made you uncomfortable, if only because you knew the men didn’t actually want to do it. Despite what Slenderman saw in you during the trials, you felt useless. Did Toby or Hoodie or Masky feel this way when they first became Proxies? Did they even go through the same trials you had to perform?  


Your thoughts distracted you from the task at hand. They were finally interrupted when you slammed into the back of Ticci-Toby, who shoved you back and stared you down with a warning glare. “Sorry,” you mumbled, trying to clear your thoughts completely.  


Masky had stopped at the building corner, holding an open palm out to the rest of the group. You weren’t sure what he saw or heard, but something was up ahead. Masky ducked back toward the group, everyone huddling together. “John and Neela are waiting at the shed. I didn’t see Isikam,” he said.  


“What about the little girl?” You queried, knowing full well what you saw.  


“I’m still not convinced you actually saw anyone,” Toby narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re a newbie, and newbies tend to see things when they’re nervous.” He poked the side of your head, jeering at your confidence.  


“Well,” Hoodie added, “when we take down the other three and the round isn’t over, then we’ll know ____ was right.” Toby only rolled his goggle-covered eyes.  


Turning back toward the building corner, Masky suggested, “Try not to get close to the shed, in case someone else tries to surprise us from around or in it.”  


Once everyone confirmed their readiness, the only choice your team had was to burst from around the building and open fire. So, that’s exactly what you did. The only problem with this was the lack of targets. The aforementioned John and Neela were out of sight. All within your view was the side wall of the motel, plain and spotted with windows, and the small tool shed about 30 feet away. Beyond that was the typical sight of a crappy parking lot and ominous trees surrounding it. There were no cars, though you hadn’t given thought about the use of vehicles in the Creepypasta world until now.  


A small growl reverberated in Masky’s throat, “They’re definitely toying with us.”  


“T-target sighted!” Toby yelled, releasing a barrage of nerf darts in his opponent’s direction. “It-t’s Neela!”  


You whipped your head around to Ticci-Toby, quickly spotting a young woman clad in some sort of corseted outfit gracefully dodge the darts. She had a curved dagger in one hand, and a pistol in the other. As she drew closer, you could see a content smile on her pursed lips.  


Neela fired a couple of rounds at your group, to which all of you dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way – some less graceful than others. When you regained your composure, the woman was gone.  


“Shit!” Hoodie expressed his frustrations quite clearly. “I hate sparring with these guys!”  


Realizing that you were facing into the center of your team, you quickly spun around on your heel to return watching for enemies in your direction.  


Too late, though.  


An arm slipped around your waist and pulled you in close to the male figure that had snuck up on you. “Master mentioned a cute new Proxy girl on Slenderman’s side,” the male Proxy grinned charmingly, though you could detect a less pure intent on his expression. He had milk chocolate, shaggy hair and deep brown eyes to match. This tanned, peach skin was damaged and bandaged here and there on his face. From the few ear piercings and spiked choker on his neck, you felt a punk-ish air about the young man. His black and grey hoodie felt soft and warm against your hand. “I didn’t think she’d be this cute, though,” he leaned down and brushed his lips over yours.  


_Click._  


The young man froze, then straightened out and looked to his side. “Can’t you see I’m busy?!” You noticed Masky holding his nerf pistol against your opponent’s head, trigger pulled.  


“God damn it, John,” came Isikam Isiko’s voice, who was busy having a shoot-out with Hoodie around the tool shed. “Keep your dick in your pants when we’re on a mission!”  


“He did it again?” Neela exclaimed from around the motel building, sprinting up from behind your captor. John released you, more concerned with the blue-themed woman rapidly approaching him. He raised his hands in defense, but that didn’t stop Neela from launch a kick to the side of his head.  


John was down for the count, especially when Neela began stomping her heel into his crotch. “You’re costing us our match, you idiot!” You and Masky backed away, counting John and no longer a worry for this round.  


When you glanced at Masky, wondering what to do, he nodded his head at an angle, signaling that you should follow. You did, regrouping with Ticci-Toby back around the motel corner from whence your team had originated. When Masky peeked back around to check on Hoodie, he noted to the group that Neela was gone. “Hoodie needs help. Isikam’s keeping him pinned down.”  


“You go help-p Hoodie,” Toby said. “She’s not-t much with a p-pistol, but it’s t-too risky that I t-t-take her on with melee.” Masky nodded to this, then glanced around to ensure it was safe to run out.  


Once he was certain the cost was clear, Masky dashed from the group’s hiding spot and made a wide arch around the tool shed, trying to flank Isikam Isiko.  


You didn’t get to see how well that went, as Toby spun around to face behind the two of you. He cursed under his breath when he found Neela standing several feet away. You got a good look at her attire, full of dark blues, reds, and black. Her matching dark blue hair looked to be cut into a short bob, but you noticed thin pony-tail easily waving around in the gentle wind. That steadily content smile had returned to Neela’s small, rosy lips.  


Gripping her faux dagger tight, Neela slowly stepped toward you and Toby. “It’s only fair that one of you go down. John’s useless today, so it’s three against four.”  


“____’s new, so she doesn’t even count,” Toby reasoned, though you his spite towards yourself. He held his pistol steady, slowly standing up from his no longer stealthy crouch.  


“Oh, good,” Neela turned her green eyes onto you. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind me getting a free kill?” She raised her dagger, swaggering her small hips as she drew closer. She took on more glance at Toby, probably to ensure that he wasn’t going to jump her while she was distracted.  


Giving Ticci-Toby a nasty glare, you felt your face heat up with anger. How dare he just sacrifice you because you were a new Proxy? This was a match to build teamwork, wasn’t it? What made him hate you all of a sudden? He seemed friendly enough when you first met him.  


Never mind that. You had to defend yourself.  


Raising the rifle in your hand, you hopped back to gain a bit of distance from Neela, then opened fire. She twirled around your nerf darts effortlessly. Still, you kept firing, adjusting your aim in hopes to catch her off guard. No use. You glanced again at Toby, giving him a dirty look before returning to firing and backing away.  


Neela eventually had enough, moving between yourself and Toby. She swung a leg up and across, crescent-kicking your rifle out of your hands. You quickly dug into your coat pocket and pulled out a faux dagger of your own. For a moment, Neela’s eyebrows raised as though she were impressed. “Maybe you’re better with the blade,” she sneered. “Let’s find out.”  


Quickly closing the distance between the two of you, Neela dashed forward and slashed at an angle. You managed to block, but your wrist made contact with your opponent’s blade. Slenderman’s voice crackled through your head, _“____’s right wrist has been slashed.”_ You played along, dropping your dagger, then used your left hand to pull out another faux blade from your coat, right in time to duck Neel’s next attempt at slicing you open. She responded with a knee to your face, sending fire through your nose. You gasped and stumbled back, trying to shake the stars out of your vision.  


“You can’t just rely on your upper body!” Neela instructed, rushing at you with her dagger held low in both hands. She was surely closing in for the kill.  


You raised both of your arms to defend your torso, bracing for impact. Your face hurt and your nose was gushing blood. You weren’t sure exactly how to counter this woman’s attack, but you were going to try.  


Near the moment of impact, you saw a grey rush come in from your right. Neela was stopped in her tracks, frozen and pretending to hack up blood in result of a hatchet head pressed against her throat. She dropped her faux dagger, and that was when Ticci-Toby brought in his other faux hatchet, chopping down on the back of Neela’s neck. She dropped to her knees and collapse on the ground, twitching dramatically and grabbing at her head as if it wasn’t here.  


“Nice,” Toby chuckled at Neela’s gruesome acting. She strained her eyes in his direction and flashed an appreciative grin at the man.  


“Wait,” you huffed, trying to breathe through your swollen and broken nose. “You tricked her?” You eyed Ticci-Toby with knitted brows, not sure what was going on.  


“Yeah,” Neela replied, laying still. “I should have known better.” She laughed at her own mistake.  


Toby lightly kicked the woman between her shoulder blades, “You’re sup-p-posed to be dead. Quit b-breaking character.”  


“Don’t kick me, Ticker!” Neela spat.  


There was a moment of tense silence. You glanced between Neela and Toby, not sure if they were friends or hated each other. Toby seemed irked by that last remark, and it was then that you noticed for the first time that he had a twitch.  


Toby turned and walked away, headed toward Hoodie and Masky, “Bitch.”  


You got up, pinching the bridge of your nose in hopes that it would stop bleeding soon. Luckily, it did lighten up, but there were still drops of blood escaping. It was probably best that you get your daggers and rifles back on hand, so you picked them up and reequipped yourself. Just before leaving, you glanced back at Neela, seeing her still playing dead with a smile on her face, then ran after Toby.  


_“Masky has been incapacitated,”_ announced Slenderman’s voice. From what you’ve experienced so far, you only know if your teammates have been injured or killed. It must be the same for the other team.  


The mention of Masky’s figurative death made your hear sink a little. So far, it’s only been him. This meant that, as far as you knew, the match was three against two. You were sure of the opposing team having two members due to Neela mentioning numbers earlier. This meant that the little girl from the motel room was still lurking around. You gulped in anticipation of what she could do.  


Approaching the tool shed, you found no one around. Masky and Hoodie’s gun fight with Isikam Isiko must have moved elsewhere. Toby looked down the other side of the motel, seeing a door broken halfway off its hinges. Masky’s head was sticking out of the doorway. You and Ticci-Toby rushed over, careful to check your surroundings as the two of you moved forward.  


“Do you really think I’m useless, or was that just part of the act?” You spoke low, unable to hold in the question about Toby’s confusing actions with Neela.  


Without looking at you, Toby, bluntly responded, “You’re not useless, but you still suck.”  


At this, you hung your lip in a small pout as the two of you reached Masky in the doorway. Hoodie caught you by surprise as he stepped over Masky. He turned to you and Toby and looked around for any signs of an opponent. “Isikam’s down,” he said. “But we haven’t finished the match.”  


Before anyone could respond, the missing girl lunged from inside the open room and repeatedly stabbed Hoodie in the back with a faux knife. “That’s because you still have to take me down,” the pig-tailed girl pushed Hoodie down as he compliantly accepted that he had been killed.  


_“Hoodie has been incapacitated,”_ Slenderman stated indifferently.  


Both you and Toby raised your guns at the girl, waiting for her to make a move. You weren’t sure what she was capable of, but you had your suspicions that she could teleport in some way.  


With a satisfied smile, the girl turned to you and Toby, pulling out a nerf pistol from behind her back, and immediately firing.  


It was over.  


_“Toby has been incapacitated.”_  


The thud of the foam dart hurt your pride more than anything else.  


_“____ has been incapacitated.”_  


Your remaining teammate had fell to the ground, so you followed suit.  


“Master said to never hesitate with a gun,” the girl chided. “I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to wait for me when I was such a clear shot.”  


“All right, but who are you? We know you have some sort of power. What is it?” Masky got up as Slenderman’s voice announced the end of the round to your team. He didn’t waver to begin questioning the new Proxy.  


The girl stepped back to give Masky room to get up, “My name is Sabrinae, but I’m also called Passenger.” You noticed a vague accent that you couldn’t quite place. “I’m dead, so I kind of have powers. Mostly, I just used the one where I only let people see me when I want them to.”  


“So, you weren’t teleporting?” You queried, sitting up and gasping for air through the only airway you had left.  


Sabrinae shook her head, “No teleporting.”  


“Might as well be,” Hoodie commented. “Offenderman’s Proxies are already dirty enough with their disappearing acts, now he has one that really does.” Sabrinae smiled at this, seeming relieved over something.  


Isikam Isiko came up behind Sabrinae, adjusting her blanket and mask, and placed a beautiful hand on the girl’s shoulder, “She’ll be a great addition to the team. Though, we’re all surprised that our master chose such a young Proxy.”  


“Geez,” came Sexual-Offenderman’s voice from nearby. Everyone looked to find him standing off to the side with Slenderman not far away. “How many times do I have to explain that I _have standards?_ Plus, Splendor would furious if I defiled a kid.” Smexy crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, looking offended at his Proxies.  


Around this time, John and Neela round the corner of the motel. John was holding his head, wincing at how hard Neela had kicked him earlier. Neela looked just as she commonly did, so far.  


“And you two!” Sexual-Offenderman jabbed a finger in the John and Neela’s direction, making them flinch, “I will handcuff both of you together if you don’t start focusing on the mission!”  


Neela looked the most disquieted, while John had an eager smirk on his face. “B-but, master!” Neela tried to defend herself, “Fuck-boi here was the one getting distracted! I was trying to set him-“ She was interrupted by her master’s abrupt change in location, holding her chin and tilting her head up to look at his grinning mouth.  


“Now, now, Neela,” Sexual-Offenderman growled. “A bad Proxy doesn’t get lovin’ from her daddy.” This seemed to straighten the blue woman out quickly. She became easily compliant with her master’s orders. “That’s better,” said Smexy.  


You watched with a hint of jealousy, not because Offenderman was so intimate with his Proxies and residents, but because he seemed more lenient with the Proxies. Even his Proxies seemed more laid back and welcoming to each other. John probably strummed their nerves often, but none of the female Proxies resonated with underlying hate for him. They were a team – even Sabrinae was already welcomed among their ranks.  


When would you get that sort of tolerance with your team? How much did you have to prove of yourself before they treated you as an equal?


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slenderman continues to be weird.  
> Fooood fiiiiiggghhhtttt!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should have been out sooner (by just a couple of days!), but I've been distracted by a video game Halloween event. XD  
> Sorry, guys.

By noon, a total of three sparring rounds had been completed. The score was 2-to-1, and Sexual-Offenderman’s Proxies were in the lead. There was no doubt that the opposing Proxies were a good team. Even if you and Passenger were new, the odds were against your favor. Masky, Hoodie, and Toby seemed indifferent about your influence to the scores, though you were only blaming yourself. At least you couldn’t blame your lack of focus on your broken nose anymore. It had stopped bleeding shortly after the first round, now only swollen and tender. Slenderman noted that he would tend to your nose when the day was over. “It’s best that you learn to endure such injuries for when the real missions occur,” he explained. Despite your urge to roll your eyes in frustration from the pain, you knew he was right. Darn him.  


Everyone stopped for a lunch break, which you were thankful for. At least you could relax for a short while. The throbbing pain in your face was beginning to make you irritable, but you held your tongue to a lot of things.  


Lunch was held in the motel kitchen, which was much less homely than the mansion’s. In fact, this kitchen resembled a restaurant’s design; tiled flooring, silvery metal counters and equipment, heavy-duty stoves. This place was made to feed large amounts of people. The only thing unimpressive about the kitchen was how – cheap – most of the kitchenware looked. Everything looked analog and flimsy. Not to mention that a lot seemed worn down.  


In the center of the kitchen was a prep-table. Its metallic surface adorned numerous scrapes and chips, dulling the once gleaming face. This table had served the motel for a long time. Surely, if it could speak, there would be many stories to tell.  


As you finished studying the layout of the room, your attention was redirected to the people around you. You had been seeing it here and there; the friendly attitudes that the Proxies shared between each other, despite their difference in masters. While there were rarely any manners shared, you did notice the light-hearted banter and teasing that had your mind swirling with confusion. Your nerves wanted to relax, but Slenderman’s warnings echoed within the confines of your memory. He had warned you that the life of Proxy would be dangerous and full of hardships. He warned you of the roughhousing and coldness from other beings. Yet, here you were, still witnessing the decency that you had prepared your heart to never experience again.  


“That is not friendship that you see,” your master’s low voice broke your train of thought. You could sense his looming presence close behind you. “They merely respect each other. They know that without the other, life becomes more difficult.”  


You were standing in one of the two doorways to the kitchen, away from the others as you had watched from afar. You turned and craned your neck to confirm that Slenderman was standing behind you. When you caught site of his crimson tie and abysmal black suit, you turned your gaze back to the other Proxies, “I’m pretty sure they don’t respect me; which means I’m useless.”  


A low chuckle echoed from deep within Slenderman’s chest. “If you were useless, you would be dead.” That sinking feeling within burned hard. As long as you could prove your worth to Slenderman, then you wouldn’t become target-practice for the other Creepypastas. “I’ve seen your potential,” your master stated, amused by your fear, “but you must prove it to the others.”  


“But,” you knitted your brows in thought, “weren’t they involved in my trials? They would’ve seen my potential then, too.”  


Bending down to level his head with your own, Slenderman held his lacking face inches away. He placed a single index finger into the center of your forehead. As he physically suggested the act of whispering into your ear, your master spoke with a smirk in his knowing voice, “They don’t see what I see.”  


After satisfying hunger and cleaning most of the old blood off of your face, the kitchen was cleaned, ammo was gathered, and the sparring resumed. Eight more challenging rounds filled the afternoon. By the end of it all, Slenderman’s team only won two more rounds, while Smexy’s team acquired six further victories. You were certain the losses were on your account. There were several times that you either completely didn’t hear or couldn’t understand your master’s announcements. Your team had tried to spread out more, using various tactics, so there were times that you were alone. Without crucial information, you weren’t aware of downed teammates or their temporary handicaps. Some of the sparring rounds were lost because of that.  


Still, you’re team seemed to not blame you for those mistakes. If they did, then they weren’t verbal about it. Most likely, they had suffered the same during their early days of Proxiship. This attunement with Slenderman was a timely process.  


The dimming light of dusk set in. After gathering equipment and used ammo for the last time, Slenderman and his snide brother said their farewells. All of the Proxies were battered and bruised. To them, this had been a successful match. They traded words of parting and handshakes, encouraging the other to improve their skills. You tried to do the same. Isikam Isiko, Neela, and Passenger were friendly enough as they praised you for your efforts. Neela openly critiqued your hand-to-hand techniques, giving helpful information. Fuck Boi, as you quickly learned throughout the day, continued to try coaxing you into his lustful arms. You quickly denied with a thick, awkward air.  


“You know,” Sexual-Offenderman caught everyone’s attention, though he was seeking your master’s, “it wouldn’t be a bad idea if ____ and Passenger switch up and spend the night – to get to know the other Proxies better.” His devilish green was contagious to John. There was no denying they those two were up to no good.  


“Absolutely not,” Slenderman interjected before his brother could make any further suggestions. “They are no longer children, despite Kitteh’s views upon them.” Something told you that wasn’t his true reasoning for denying Smexy’s request.  


With that said, your master extended his tendrils and made contact with all four of his Proxies. A startling yank of your body being pressed against Slenderman’s side forced a tiny yelp to escape you. All the while, the tall, suited being glared down Sexual-Offenderman with a protective energy. In an instant, your surroundings were replaced by the mansion lobby. Slenderman quickly released his tight grip around your upper body, not once hesitating to storm off down a dark hall. You and your fellow Proxies were left to your own devices.  


Hoodie and Masky exchanged glances. Toby tiredly headed to the weapons room, muttering something about how he needed to go watch something burn. He was soon followed by the prior two men and yourself, though you stared after them for a short moment, lost in wonderment on whether or not they had noticed what Slenderman had done.

Putting away the Nerf gear was a generally quiet process. The only words exchanged between all four members of your team were requests to pass a cleaning supply or some such. Even if these were just toy products, the Nerf equipment still had to be maintained. Everything, including the ammo, was checked for irreparable damages, to which they were then collected and used for scraps and spares.  


Afterward, your team went their separate ways. There was nothing more to do. This was when you realized just how physically and mentally exhausted you were. Perhaps it was the sudden drop in adrenaline, but fatigue hit you like a crashing wave. You decided it best to shower and flop into your bed, to which you did without question.  


With your master’s disappearance, you weren’t sure what to do about your still broken nose. You had to breathe through your mouth. Even a sniffle had you wincing in pain. So far, you could tolerate the aching, but it sure would be nice to have a functioning nose again. Thus, you dealt with your current predicament and stretched out on your bed.  


Your sheer, veiled window glowed in the moonlight. It was a soft contrast to your otherwise dark room. The utter silence was barely recognizable as you adjusted from a busy day to being able to relax. With heavy eyelids, you easily succumbed to slumber, quickly forgetting about your throbbing broken nose.

With a start, you wake up to great distress as your body tried over and over to inhale, only to choke at the constriction of your trachea. Your nose pulsed with excruciating pain, heated and swollen. Your eyes focused on the familiar pale head of your master looming over you. His hands were tightly wrapped around your throat. At first, you struggled due to the initial moment of terror, but you were growing accustomed to these almost nightly visits from Slenderman. You knew that the best thing to do was lie still and comply, but this was admittedly difficult, seeing as your consciousness was fading away from lack of air.  


A predatory growl bellowed from Slenderman’s wake. “I am your master. You are my property. Only I may defile you, if I so choose.”  


You weren’t sure if he was talking directly to you, or speaking rhetorically, but decided it best to respond. With a strain, you nodded your head in acceptance to Slenderman’s statements, hoping it would satisfy him.  


It did.  


Retracting his hands, your master switched to a new, less threatening, demeanor. You gasped for air, greedily sucking it in as you tried to prevent yourself from blackening out. Blood rushed through your veins again. Your face gave off a dizzying set of aches.  


“You’re my Proxy,” Slenderman leaned down and began to nuzzle your sore neck. The hot breath from his revealed mouth irritated your skin.  


As your vision cleared, you gulped with fearful anticipation of what more was to come. Through a raspy voice, you replied, “Yes, master.” This always seemed to appease him. A purr-like growl confirmed your hopes, removing a heavy weight from your chest. Relief filled your lungs.  


Still, your nose felt no better than the moment it was broken. For some unintelligible reason, you decided now of all times was best to ask, “When are you going to reset my nose? It’s hard to breathe with it like this.”  


Instant regret stung your chest. Without a moment’s hesitation, a pair of Slenderman’s tendrils shot up your nostrils. The intense pain of your proboscis being straightened out knocked away any bit of weariness you had left. You could hear the bones snapping into place as your master’s tendrils swelled accordingly to the passageways. A gush of old blood drained down your throat, causing you to gag. You cried out between breaths and attempts to swallow the drainage. Pain overwhelmed your face. Fruitless efforts to struggle against Slenderman were pinned down by his arms.  


Soon, though it certainly didn’t feel like it, the procedure was over. Your master retracted his tendrils, flicking them to clean off the residue. There was a small mess of blood, tears, and mucus smeared over your face and pillow.  


After catching your breath and regaining control of yourself, you did your best not to touch your nose. No doubt, it would hurt like a son of a bitch, but also didn’t want to cause bones to become unaligned again.  


You sighed, shaming yourself for knowing better than to ask Slenderman to give you medical attention.  


Speaking of the mysterious being, he had disappeared sometime between now and finishing his brutal procedure. With an exasperated sigh, you climbed out of bed and made your way to the bathroom to clean your face.  


A good look in the mirror condoned your facial discomfort. While your nose was no longer crooked and scrunched, it was wide and bruised. The inner corners of your eyes had darkened to a deep purple, and the outer reaches of the damaged area were radiating with a fiery red. Sure as hell felt like your face was on fire.  


You dampened a cloth and gently wiped away the freshly oozed blood and sinus mucus from your face. Luckily, Slenderman hadn’t caused your nose to bleed again – somehow. The task was moderately quick, though you took extra time to sooth your heated skin with the cool rag. Breathing through your swollen nasal passages was still difficult, though not impossible like before.  


Lumbering your way to the medical room, you pondered over all the pills you would need to take. Hell, would you even be able to tell what they were? Sure, you knew over-the-counter medicines, but prescription bottles had all sorts of medication. Maybe you’d catch Laughing Jack or someone who could help you one the way.  


Upon entering the medical room, the draft of cold air hitting you like a wall, you quickly noticed a transparent cup of pills across the room. It was neatly placed atop the metal table you had laid on once before. Next to the pills was a bottle of water and a note. You unwarily approached the goods, feeling thankful that someone had gathered the medicine for you.  


The note was written on some sort of prescription paper. This had a smirk curling to one side of your lips as you read the information that had been jotted down in a beautiful, cursive handwriting.

_Prescribed to _____

_Antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, pain relievers._ _Ingest all provided tablets twice daily._ _Further doses will be distributed by Laughing Jack to your private room._

The signature provided was Slenderman’s infamous Operator symbol. Had he planned this before his visit to your room, or did he know you would come here for medication?  


You shook your head, laughing at yourself, “He can read your mind. Of course he knew.” Without further delay, you gulped down the pills, welcoming sweet relief. It’d take a bit of time, but at least you knew it would come.  


By the time you reached your bedroom, you had finished the bottle of water. You’d need the hydration, as you recalled learning that antibiotics could cause dehydration. In the morning, you’d have more, but for now, it was time to get a good night’s rest. Maybe now you could sleep soundly, since you would be knocked out from the pain relievers.  


And that you did.  


The night passed by without a single stir from you.  


The morning, however, began with Laughing Jack casually strolling into your room with a tray of pills and water. He greeted you loudly with a, “Time to take your adult candy! Get up, ____!” To this, you groggily stirred awake. Blurry vision distorted the image of Jack’s figure illuminated by the sheer-covered window. While it wasn’t blinding, the morning light was disheartening to your peaceful slumber. “There’s leftovers from Kitteh’s feast yesterday,” Jack said. “Better get down there before it’s all gone, kiddo.” After that, he left you to your own devices.  


Your stomach eagerly growled at the mention of food. No doubt, you should probably eat something before the medicine made you sick. After taking some time to clean yourself up in the bathroom, you grabbed your new doses of medication and water before pacing downstairs to fight for your share of the food.  


The full scent of a warm breakfast seduced your nostrils. Thank goodness the swelling had gone down, though not entirely. You could breathe a little better.  


As soon as you turned into the kitchen, the chaos began.  


Everyone, save for the missing Slenderman, was fighting over the food. There didn’t seem to be any rules to the squabbling and fighting, either. BEN had already set Jeff on fire while snatching biscuits to stuff his mouth with, Eyeless Jack was hunched in a corner as he shoveled handful of food into his face, Laughing Jack was doing his best to guard the microwave as he heated up his scavenged portions, and your fellow Proxies were working – somewhat – together to sneak food onto their plates.  


The kitchen was already a mess. Crumbs were scattered all over the floor. There were even a few broken dishes from the hostile atmosphere. Maybe it was already too late for you to get a decent breakfast. There seemed to be some food still on the plastic containers, so you cautiously made your way to the refrigerator for something else while you played the waiting game. If there was anything left in the cold box, at least it would be something to tide you over and still take your pills.  


You discovered a half-eaten bowl of soggy cereal sitting on the otherwise empty shelf of the fridge. A silver spoon rested on the edge, ready to complete its task of feeding its controller. You felt your heart sink and your eyelid twitch with annoyance. No way were you going to eat after someone else. This was getting ridiculous.  


Maybe it was the lingering high of your previously ingested medicine. Maybe it was the madness of the kitchen getting to you. Maybe it was your hunger pains making the decisions for you. You weren’t sure what drove you to snap, but you remembered placing the cup of pills and bottle of water onto the shelf in the refrigerator. You remembered scooping up the bowl of cereal from its cold resting place, cradling the bottom in your palm. You remembered turning to the chaos at the kitchen counters, cocking your bowl-loaded arm back, and catapulting your mushy ammo right into BEN’s forehead with a noticeable - Pock! – echoing throughout the room.  


Everyone froze.  


You weren’t sure why you targeted BEN, but that was who you hit. His face not only oozed with his usual eye blood, but now milk and oversaturated cereal bits. He grimaced, wiping away the new substance from his eyes, and locked his glare on you. “What the shit, ____?!” BEN exclaimed. He didn’t get to retaliate, though. Jeff stole his opportunity to tackle BEN to the ground for a fist fight.  


When you glanced at your teammates, you found them staring at you in disbelief. But here was an opening for them to grab food while BEN and Jeff were distracted with each other. “Hurry up!” You waved your hands at Toby, Hoodie, and Masky, urging them to gather what they could and run. With another pass of your gaze around the kitchen, you found Laughing Jack smirking at you, an eyebrow raised. He looked impressed. Eyeless Jack paid no mind. You couldn’t help but grin a bit, proud of yourself.  


A firm pat on your shoulder brought you out of your self-congratulatory moment. You found Masky there, letting Ticci-Toby and Hoodie pass by with stacked plates of food. “Good work,” Masky complimented. “Let’s get out of here.” He ran off without you. Before you chased after, you turned and snatched up your pills and water, almost forgetting them in all the excitement.  


You didn’t bother closing the refrigerator door, terrified that BEN would soon lay his wrathful fire on you if you stuck around much longer.  


All four Proxies hid away in the briefing room. The plates were spread out on the table, quickly making the pristine glass surface smeared with greasy crumbs. Each Proxy pulled up a chair and divided the plunderage amongst themselves. You smiled shyly as the three men in front of you bragged to each other about your heroic endeavor.  


“Did you see BEN’s face when the bowl hit him?!” Toby exploded into another round laughter, undoubtedly recalling the details in his mind.  


“Yeah, but did you hear the bowl hit him?” Masky sneered when Toby stopped to imitate the bowl’s moment of impact sound.  


“I bet there’s gonna be a huge lump on his forehead next time we see him,” Hoodie quipped.  


You simply laughed along with them, eating your not-so-glamorous breakfast, despite the fact that it looked to have been trampled by a herd of cattle. Hell, it wasn’t even heated past room temperature, but you didn’t seem to mind. The day’s victory made it taste so much better.  


“What possessed you to do that, ____?” Masky queried you, genuinely wondering how a newbie such as yourself could get so brave against a Creepypasta.  


Pausing, your eyes darted over the table and the scattered plates. “I’m not really sure, myself,” you admitted. “I just saw the bowl and how gross it was and just,” you trailed off in thought, trying to figure out exactly what you were thinking during that moment of bravery, but couldn’t bring it to words. “I don’t know.”  


All three men shrugged and continued eating. The reasoning didn’t seem to matter to them. They were just curious. You, however, wanted to know if it had any connection to your black-out that stole Slenderman’s interest so much. Were you starting to become conscious of your actions during such moments? Maybe you could work on doing that.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some chill stuff.  
> Then some not-so-chill stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry for the two month delay! D:  
> I got a new job! I finished school!  
> I was hoping for a longer... er.. break between finishing school and starting my new career. Hell, I was expecting it! But, I got hired right before graduation (still graduated, though), so I dove in head first as an electrical helper at a plant construction site. XD  
> It's gonna be crazy hours... so I'll most likely only be able to write on the weekends... if I even have time.  
> Still, I WILL finish this story!  
> So, if it seems like I quit. I didn't.  
> If, for some crazy reason, I have to stop, I WILL make an announcement about it and not leave you all wondering what happened.
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for being so patient with me! X3

In spite of the short-lived breakfast victory, the Proxies were forced to clean the kitchen. Such a mess was far greater than the first time around, mostly due to food crumbs being smeared into tile grout and miscellaneous corners. You ended up requiring a toothbrush to finish this job. Any sense of smell that you were beginning to regain was overwhelmed by the scent of lemon. The abrasions within your nostrils stung from the chemicals that you were forced to inhale.  


Lunchtime was creeping close by the time the kitchen was purified to satisfaction. At least there was nothing left of Kitteh’s food, so the possibility of another rampage was minimal. You were still satiated from breakfast, so you postponed having anything for lunch until your overlord of a stomach demanded otherwise.  


Later, you learned that Eyeless Jack and Jeff the Killer would be out hunting for a few days. To this, you let out a sigh of relief. The knowledge that about half of the threats that existed within your new home would be temporarily gone mitigated your anxiety.  


With things calming down again, you decided to inspect your garden. It had been a couple of days, and you weren’t sure if it had rained at the mansion during that time. In fact, you weren’t sure if it ever rained in the Creepypasta world. Surely it did on occasion; otherwise, where would the water come from? This was a question you would have to inquire about in the near future. In the meantime, you inspected your hard work, plucking up any sprouts of weeds or grass that you desperately hoped weren’t the seeds you had planted. So far, there seemed to be no vegetable sprouts, but you recalled reading that it could take a week or so before noticeable results.  


After cleaning up the bed of seeds, you searched the nearby shed for the watering can. There was no hose, nor a modern water faucet. Instead, you had to work a water pump the old fashioned way. Thus, began your several rounds of pumping, filling the watering can, carrying it to the garden, soaking the rows of seeds, and returning to step one. You didn’t noticed a tall, slender being watching you from afar until your second round. If you weren’t already accustomed to his style of appearances, you would surely have been startled.  


Upon catching sight of your master, you stopped and turned to him, “Is everything okay?” It’d be best not to ignore him, but you had a more direct question that you felt would offend him in some way if you acknowledged him with it.  


Nodding, Slenderman simply replied, “Observing.”  


You flashed an accepting smile, then continued tending to your garden. Now was a good time to ask the real question, “Why are you so fascinated with my gardening?” The back patio full of exotic flowers was evidence of Slenderman’s expert ability to raise flora, so why monitor your work?  


He didn’t respond.  


Glancing in your master’s direction, you saw him staring at you with no intent to offer a reply. You brushed it off, knowing that trying to force out an answer would just get you strangled. There were already enough bruises on your neck.  


Silence filled the air while you finished watering your rows of planted seeds. When you deemed your work done, scanning your eyes over the garden, a mental reminder struck your chest - Laughing Jack’s gumball hadn’t been watered. At first, you rolled your eyes, planning to ignore it, but something deep within you heavily suggested that you treat the gumball equally. This feeling of dread drove you to watering it, despite how silly you felt. You laughed to yourself, thinking of how wild it would be if Laughing Jack’s precious gumball actually sprouted.  


With nothing more to do with the garden, you entered the shed to put away the watering can. A quick scan, looking over the available tools and provisions, gave you a decent estimation of what the future would hold. You would need to refer back to the books to see what was further needed of you once the seedlings sprouted – if they ever did.  


Sighing, you turned to the shed door, only to once again find your master blocking your way with his awkwardly looming wake. Despite how inured you were getting to this habit of his, your body still released a fiery burst of adrenaline in your chest. A slew of curses escaped your breath, though Slenderman didn’t seem to mind. He probably found it amusing to watch you try to compose yourself in his sudden appearances.  


As soon as you moistened your temporary cotton mouth to nag at your master, a pair of large hands clasped either side of your face. Your head was tilted back and side to side; Slenderman was examining your nose. You watched him, eyes straining to keep a bead on his lacking face as he studied how well your nose was healing. There were still obvious blotches of bruising, though they had begun to fade from black and blue to a brownish-yellow. Your master's bony thumbs reached to the bridge of your nose and firmly pressed against it. To this, you winced, feeling a dull pain. Slenderman released your head, seeming satisfied with what he has learned. You massaged your nose while giving the tall being a dirty glance.  


“Continue your medication for one more day,” Slenderman stated.  


“Uh,” you stumbled over your words, trying not to sound snarky, “okay. Thanks. I didn't think I'd be off them so soon, anyway.” Your eyes shifted to either side of shed doorway, looking for a large enough gap to squeeze passed your master.  


“The accelerated healing is beneficial to our lifestyle.”  


“Yeah,” you trailed off awkwardly, already inching your way to one side in hopes of slipping by.  


Slenderman gripped your shoulder just as you were about to make it through his barricade. Nonetheless, you froze at his touch, fearing that you had angered him for wanting to get out. His less threatening tone eased your nerves, though, when he inquired you, “Did you receive my broadcast about the mission?”  


Eyebrows knitting in recollection, you mulled over the morning since breakfast. “I guess not. I'm sorry. What's the mission?” Your teammates didn't mention anything about it, and you knew they wouldn't keep that sort of information from you – for their own sake – knowing you were still synchronizing with Slenderman's Proxy telepathy – or whatever he called it.  


You were surprised by your master's patience toward the inconvenience, though it wasn't your fault, and thus couldn't be blamed. “We will be executing another human five days from now,” he summarized.  


“Someone else has been collecting glamour shots of you?” It was an innocent enough jest that you desperately hoped Slenderman wouldn't misjudge. Your, at first, snickering face quickly dropped to an uncertain and crooked grin. The pale being simply stared at you, for lack of a better term. The silence was disturbing any comfort you had left.  


“I'd like to show you something,” your master offered, startling you out of anticipation. Even though you flinched, he kept a firm grip on your shoulder. You weren't able to give consent before your eyes unfocused and the scenery changed around you.  


Your next inhale caught your attention, filling your nostrils with the scent of old leather and parchment. Tall, seemingly endless bookshelves filled your view. Slenderman didn't have to explain that this was a library, though you wondered if it was still inside the mansion.  


The hand gripping your shoulder slid down to the small of your back, urging you in your master's desired direction though the rows of books and documents. You were sure you caught a glance of a rack full of ancient scrolls.  


There was one area in particular that Slenderman guided you to, neglecting to give a friendly tour as you went – what a shame. This area, however, had its own quirky theme that quickly made a connection in your mind: Slenderman collected his glamour shots. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh aloud. You did your best not to think too much about the situation, knowing you'd receive punishment for silently making fun of your master, if he was listening in on your thoughts.  


Upon closer inspection, you noticed large filing cabinets filled with film reels, VHS tapes, and other forms of media. Other shelves held numerous photo albums. In one corner, there was a furniture setup of a recliner facing a projector screen, an old box television, and a more updated television. Each appliance was accompanied by its appropriate video player. Next to the recliner was a small side table with a set of speakers and attached feed adapters. Lastly, nearby this arrangement was white desk. A swing-arm lamp sat to one side, folded and waiting.  


“Throughout the decades,” Slenderman began his verbal presentation, “I have collected various forms of evidence involving myself and my Proxies. I use these to study my effects on the every growing technology of recording devices.” He remained at your side, allowing you to view his personal library.  


Hesitant, you cleared your throat and gave an awkward smile as a sign of good faith. “So, this isn't some form of narcissism? It's actually for research,” you dared to ask. “I-I mean,” you panicked, worried that your master would punish you for accusing him of a petty trait, “you seem more like the latter, so it makes sense that this is strictly for research.” Your eyes strained up to study Slenderman's featureless head, hoping to detect something to prepare yourself for the worst.  


Slenderman angled his head in your direction, seeming to eye you with whatever vision receptors he possessed. He was silent for a few moments. This didn't ease your nerves in the least bit. Was he teasing you? Usually he wouldn't bother to postpone your punishments. You gulped, trying to lubricate your drying throat.  


“Sexual-Offenderman is more the type to keep your so-called 'glamour shots' of himself,” your master finally broke the silence, his tone placid. “Mind you, I do appreciate a skilled capture of my likeness.”  


You released a breath of air that you hadn't realized you were holding. The relief that you weren't going to be strangled or terrified for thinking of your master as a narcissist melted off of your shoulders. Actually, you mentally noted that Slenderman had been oddly forgiving toward a number of your situations. Sure, you were officially a Proxy now, but you were assured that such a status didn't exempt you from corporal punishments when he deemed it necessary. So, why were your insulting assumptions ignored?  


“Because you were merely deducing from the facts you had gathered,” Slenderman responded to your pondering as though you had been vocalizing your concerns the entire time. “I may be a creature of nightmares, but I am capable of discerning logical reasoning from blind accusations.” He then gracefully whirled around on one heel, toward the front of the main library, “Come.” You did as you were told.  


Down the long, wide isle of the main library was a pair of classic wooden doors with bronze knobs. Upon exited through them with your master, you found yourself in a hallway unfamiliar to you. Directly across was a line of large windows overlooking the patio back patio. You seemed to be in the back of the mansion.  


The pressure of Slenderman's hand on your lower back guided you along the modestly decorated hall. Occasional doors dotted the wall opposite the library. The air was eerily quiet, save for the soft tapping of footsteps made by Slenderman and yourself. The monotonous atmosphere was soon interrupted by a new scent entering your nose. At first, you figured Jeff was up ahead, huffing on a cigarette. You remembered, however, that he was supposed to be gone for a few days, so that was unlikely. From what you knew, no one else smoked.  


You and your master rounded the corner, revealing to you the familiar hallway that led to the staircase and your room. The choking odor of ashes was growing, though you didn't notice much difference in the air's visibility.  


It was when Slenderman stopped at the top of the staircase did you see the source of your growing curiosity.  


Standing in a corner of the mansion lobby was a thin being clad gray-scale colors. He wore a gray, hooded jacket and black pants. With the low-cut style of the zipped-up top, you detected a black, turtle-neck shirt. You could see his peach flesh between the shirt and the black mask that concealed his true face. Upon this mask were a pair of white, scowling eyes and a jagged mouth. These weren't characteristics out of the norm for you new world, but couldn't take your gaze from the one thing that did.  


Steady plumes of smoke veiled this person's hands and feet. You could barely see if they even had such physical appendages. These were obviously the cause of the thickening air of smoke. You weren't sure if you would be able to stay in the same room with this being for too long.  


“I appreciate your cooperation, Smoke,” Slenderman descended the staircase, pulling out small, metal box and flipping its conjoined switch. “I have interrupted my passive energies. You should be feeling less suppressed at this point.” You watched from atop the stairs, listening closely and watching this Smoke's demeanor.  


Smoke nodded, loosening his crossed arms and pushing himself from the corner to straighten his posture, “Thank you, Slenderman.” He still seemed tense, uncomfortable with where he was.  


“Perhaps it would be more appropriate for us to continue at my patio,” Slenderman offered. He gestured a hand toward the hall that lead to the back of the mansion on the first floor.  


Nodding, Smoke waited for Slenderman to take lead. You noticed an effeminate quirk to this newcomer, though you were certain his voice sounded masculine, as he walked out of sight.  


You waited a short while, making sure that the two had gone far enough so that you could open the front door and air out the lobby. It might be rude to want to get rid of Smoke's odor, so you didn't want to risk it. Simply opening the door wasn't enough, though, so you went into the living room and found a magazine to fan the smoke outside. You took breaks to catch your breath and fill your lungs with clean air, probably looking like a darn fool to anyone who might happen to be watching.  


Unfortunately, for you, someone was indeed watching.  


It began as a tingling sensation around your feet. This soon clawed up your legs like vicious demons equipped with molten talons. Your body gave way to the increasing pain, collapsing to the floor as tongues of fire flickered into your view. The engulfment of your body set off every alarm in your mind, forcing out a desperate shriek for mercy. You felt as though you were melting, but your skin seemed to tighten around your heated bones. No matter how wide your held open your eyes, praying that this was just some nightmare you could wake up from, your vision never faded; your eyeballs stung like the fresh burst of steam after uncovering a boiling pot. Overwhelmed with pain on every inch of your being, you found yourself nearly catatonic – muscles tensed and held tight in a single statuary position – while trying to writhe on the lobby floor. You screamed incoherent words of terror, of fury, and of bargains to make it stop.  


Finally, after what seemed ages of the deranging torture, it stopped. You weren't sure when it stopped, but the horrible sensations faded away as if you had simply suffered a cold sweat. The moment you realized your freedom, your body flattened onto the floor, finally relaxing. You stared up at the ceiling, gathering your thoughts and trying to remember where you were.  


“That's for breakfast,” a young man's voice hissed from the side. He hovered near you, making sure that you saw just who got their revenge.  


You strained your eyes to look in the voice's direction, trying to recall what had happened to receive such a punishment. Your head tilted over, aiding your attempt to see who had done this. A green, Phrygian cap nestled upon a head of golden hair.  


Everything came flooding back to you as soon as you noticed the red, bulging lump on BEN's pale forehead. His dark eyes narrowed at your vulnerable form, satisfied with his revenge, then wandered off into the living room without another word.  


Unable to find the will to rise from defeat, you remained on the floor, staring at the entry way to the living room. The tapping of a game controller filled in the silence, accompanied by the faint music of the Song of Unhealing. Your eyes stung as tear welled up within you; a painful lump in your throat steadily grew. You wanted to cry right there, but if someone witnessed such a thing, would they think less of you? Would you immediately be cast out from the team of Proxies?  


Slenderman had warned that you should get accustomed to this sort of pain, but receiving it from those who were supposed to be your ally was a different class altogether. You felt betrayed.  


After some time of allowing your thoughts to wander, you gathered yourself and rose from the floor. A quick once-over your body confirmed that Ben had only used his illusioned flames, leaving no physical harm to yourself – only mental. You wiped away the few escaped tears that clung to your cheek, then began climbing the staircase to reach your bedroom. The mansion door could stay open for all you cared; there was still a lingering scent of smoke that needed to be further aired out, anyway.  


Your bedroom door, however, was gently closed behind you, sealing away the what you were trying to hide. You clambered onto your bed, unable to ignore the smoke that clung to your clothes as you tried to hold back your swelling urge to sob into your pillows. Collapsing onto the soft fabrics, you screwed your eyes shut, trying to imagine yourself anywhere but the mansion. All that formed in your mind was the view of the lobby ceiling framed by orange flames. Your skin crawled at the memory of what you endured.  


No matter how hard you tried, it wouldn't stop. The pain wouldn't stop.  


The dam that was your eyelids gave way to tears. You choked on the lump in your throat. Pathetic wails of your misery were muffled by the pillows as you buried your face into them. You felt a loathing rage build upon inside you, judging Ben to be unfair in his vengeful tactic. A need to even the score called to you from deep within. Ideas of how to torture the ghost flashed through your mind like the flipping images. Your chest burned as hot as your fresh tears while you gasped for control.  


An unknown time had passed by the time you had calmed down to the occasional hiccup and sniffle. A weight on your bed behind you tipped off that there was a new presence in your room. You were confident that it was your master.  


Sure enough, you heard his rumbling voice initiate the following conversation, “I prefer my Proxies to have bites worse than their barks.”  


You didn't bother to turn you head; you didn't feel like moving, much less talk, but you figured it best to reply. “You want me to attack an ally?”  


“So long as you refrain from extinguishing them, I don't care how you go about retaliating against an ally.”  


Your jaw clenched, considerations dancing through you mind. You remained silent, knowing that Slenderman was most likely reading your thoughts, anyway. There was concern of how things would go on the battlefield if you continued fighting with Ben. How would you be able to trust that he wouldn't try to get revenge on you during that time?  


“Ben would have to answer to me. Solving personal conflicts with a colleague while on a mission is strictly prohibited. It causes too great a risk to the team's livelihood.” Slenderman was confident in his statement. This was already a normal thing for residents and Proxies to fight back while at the mansion. “The same goes for my Proxies, of course. Even if you completely despise an ally, you must do your part while on mission.”  


Cracking open your lips, you wondered aloud, “I don't know what the limits are to a Creepypasta, though. What if I accidentally kill one?”  


There was a broad sneer in your master's voice, “Then, my dear, you should begin experimenting before such a mistake occurs.” His encouragement was contagious, and it infected you wholly.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader-chan plots revenge.  
> Reader-chan does gym class.  
> Reader-chan goes on mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for being so patient with my horrible update routine! Q.Q  
> It's only going to get worse from here, as my job has increased our work ours AND I'll only get every other weekend off (though it'll be Friday-Sunday).
> 
> I'm getting a bluetooth keyboard for my phone so I can work on writing while on lunch breaks, so hopefully that'll help. (I keep trying to improve, but I only get worse. wtf) Also, tablets and laptops are ridiculously expensive these days! D: Y'all are awesome. I'll let you get to reading. ~<3 Enjoy! 

The next two days were intriguing, to say the least. You spent the first day stalking BEN and asking your fellow Proxies about him. Masky and Hoodie were all for helping you torture the elf-like kid, seeing as how they had endured similar abuse in the past. Unfortunately, they wouldn't do more than give advice, saying that a Proxy has to learn to take care of themselves while in the mansion. “The very hint that we're working together against the Creepypastas, and we'll be killed,” Masky said. “I want to get out of this alive, if I can help it.”  


Toby wasn't much help. He just laughed at your outlandish plan, knowing that BEN wasn't an easy target. “I've t-tried getting my rev-venge on B-BEN b-before. It didn't g-go well,” then he waved and walked away with a look of silent lucky wishes. This removed what confidence you had, but the desire to impress Slenderman kept that tiny flame burning.  


You wanted to become a strong Proxy – needed to.  


Flipping through your pocket notepad, you refreshed over the advice Hoodie and Masky gave you. BEN never bathed, though he only took showers. BEN has an obsession with the Majora's Mask game. He never sleeps, on account that he's a ghost. BEN can travel through electronics and access data from within. He avoids large bodies of water.  


Unless there was some sort of trick up the boy's sleeve, you schemed a masterful plan with what information you had. It would take longer to get your revenge than you had hoped, but it would all be worth it, if you were successful.  


The second day, you hid up in your room with a notebook, sketchpad, and plenty of pencils and erasers. From the stalking that you did the day before, you noticed that there was only one bathroom that BEN used, and, just like the other ones, there was a deep bathtub with a shower head. You casually surveyed all surrounding halls and rooms for any type of electronics, wires, and outlets, marking them on your sketched-out map. In your notebook, you plotted out times to each step you would need to take without getting caught by BEN. Most would be easy, except one particular step: get the game out of the console. You would have to do more stalking to find a rhythm in BEN's habits.  


Each time you took a break from your plotting and drafting, you made a point to pass by the living room to see if BEN was still there. Most of the time, he was, save for times in the bathroom or kitchen. You jotted down his average times spent anywhere he went – even how fast he moved at a relaxed pace. There was no room for mistakes in this personal mission of yours.  


At one point, while you were deeply involved with your thoughts in your bedroom, Slenderman gave you a fright from his typically abrupt appearance. You weren't sure how long he had been behind you, but when his deep voice broke the silence in your room, you were sure your heart jumped into your throat.  


“Meticulous planning, I see,” your master complimented. “I look forward to witnessing its unfold.” Before you could respond, finally catching your breath, Slenderman disappeared. He probably scared you on purpose, sensing that your nerves were high-strung. God forbid that BEN find out about your little scheme.  


When you weren't plotting and drafting your ultimate revenge against BEN, you exercised with your team. It was important to keep in shape between missions, so they made sure you were involved with their routine; your lack of physical abilities was a liability to them.  


Mornings consisted of a five mile job, then one-yard sprints, and finally hurdles. The boys pushed you to your limits, making your lungs burn fiercely, but you reminded yourself of its importance. While Masky and Hoodie were more encouraging, Toby enjoyed tossing sassy comments of how his dead parents could run better than you.  


After lunch, and some time for digestion, it was time for weightlifting. Most of it had to do with carrying heavy objects, rather than the standard forms of exercise you would see in a gym. You would have to carry bricks, logs, and weighted dummies from point A to point B. There were obstacles and turns to overcome, too. The boys said it was to prepare you for missions, and the obstacles were different each day; repetition would only prepare you for a short list of real occurrences.  


Post-dinner exercises were the most peculiar. Never would you have imagined Proxies willingly do yoga, of all things. They explained that it would help stretch the muscles and tendons, along with increase balance. Despite how easy yoga always sounded, you found yourself sweating bullets by the end of the sessions. How many times had you showered each day? Still, you felt the burn in your muscles – a good burn that helped you feel confident about your physique. You couldn't wait to see how you would look after a few months of this routine!  


On day three, after a rigorous exercise following lunch, you happened by that odd new Creepypasta, Smoke. He wasn't hard to notice, even when you couldn't see him, thanks to his passive odor. He was in the lobby again, waiting on Slenderman, when you came down the hall from the back of the mansion. Your mask was askew on your face, your hair a mess, and your clothes dusted with leaves and soil.  


“Hey,” you tried to be friendly toward the Creepypasta, seeing as he was more than a one-time visitor. All you received was a slight turn of the head in your direction; whether there was a friendly or threatening expression, you couldn't tell, thanks to his mask. The awkward silence made you nervous, making you shift in your discomfort. “Um,” you tried to make conversation, “So you're part of Slenderman's faction, huh? He was talking about how we needed to create closer bonds to the other Creepypastas – especially the Watchers.”  


Your heard an audible _click_ at the top of the staircase, pulling your attention away from Smoke's mysterious form. Your eyes rested upon Slenderman, who visibly held that strange device again, then slipped it into his coat pocket. “Welcome back, Smoke. I assume you were successful?”  


Expecting a response from the silent being, you whipped your head back around to see what Smoke's response would be. You saw him hold up a small, soggy bag of – something – as an offering to your master.  


“It's not easy bringing back proof, you know,” Smoke remarked. He watched Slenderman descend from the staircase, who then gently plucked the bag from the shorter being's cloudy hand.  


As Slenderman opened the bag to inspect its contents, he nonchalantly responded, “Which is why I chose them as your targets. It would be far more trouble to bring back false evidence.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a single lump of glowing coal.  


No; not coal. It slowly pulsed at a gradually weakening rate. Was that a heart?  


You watched in silence, not wanting to be shooed away.  


Smoke shoved his hands into his hoody pockets and leaned on one leg against the wall behind him. His hips tilted to one side as he tried to ease himself into a rested position. “I already told you: I don't need any more enemies as it is. You and your kind may negatively affect me, but at least you found a way to null it when I'm around. That, and Zalgoids have never given me a reason to trust them.” Smoke shrugged, trying to act casual in the wake of Slenderman.  


“I appreciate your participation, Smoke,” your master put away the darkening coal-heart and tied the bag closed. “You have earned my trust, simultaneously earning the trust of my family. I hope that through this, you will soon become capable of trusting us, as well.  


“If you so happen to require our aid, I will gladly make the necessary arrangements.” Slenderman gripped the bag at his side, staring at Smoke as he waited for some sort of response.  


There was a small, nearly unnoticeable shift of Smoke's head, turning in your direction. He held it for a few moments, seemingly pondering over your master's offer. “Not a Proxy,” he firmly stated. “They have your,” Smoke paused, choosing his word for precision, “smell.”  


An awkward smirk contorted your face, making you look away in hopes that Smoke wouldn't see you. How could he smell anything else with the choking odor that he produced? The lobby was starting to look like some sort of garage suicide.  


“Very well,” Slenderman accepted his client's terms. “I will inform my current allies of your involvement.” To this, Smoke nodded and straightened himself out, moving toward the large mansion door. He gave your master a firm nod, opened the door, and stepped out. Slenderman watched patiently, satisfied when the door clicked shut. “He has a heightened sensitivity to the passive frequencies of Slender-beings,” your tall master faced you. “The disruptor collected from Gerald Macky's residence proved useful in my endeavors to gain new allies” He pulled out the strange device from earlier, showing you a black, plastic box with a single red switch on one side. To you, the device was large enough to fit in both of your hands, but Slenderman held it in his palm as though it was a tiny thing.  


You tilted your head up, looking between your master and the device, “But doesn't it hurt you when it's on?”  


Slenderman flipped the switch a couple of times, “It simply nullifies my effects up to a certain range; however, before my alterations on this one, it seemed to repel my entire self upon entering its proximity.” He slipped it back into his coat pocket, not caring if you were still examining the device. Without another word, he stepped away and disappeared, slender-walking to a place unknown to you.  


Now that you were left alone again, you gathered your thoughts, processing the information you had received. It soon occurred to you that you had yet to clean up after exercises. Sighing, you climbed the staircase to freshen up and return to your scheming against BEN.

  


The next two days went back to normal. You continued your slow progression of setting things up. A wire snip here, a blocked electrical outlet there, superglue was your ultimate tool in this project. You didn't want BEN to jump through the mansion by hijacking the wires and thus outrunning you. When things would unfold, all hell would break loose, and you wanted to make sure you got out alive.  


In the meantime, you continued to observe BEN's daily routines, making adjustments in your notes when needed.  


Your ultimate scheme was interrupted, however, by the inevitable mission that you knew was coming. This was probably best, though, as you didn't want to participate in a mission already injured. The grand unfolding would have to wait.  


On the day before the mission, your team only did a session of yoga exercises. You were all informed that the meet-up time would be 11:00 PM, so the four of you agreed that it would be best to get some sleep before then. The yoga session made it easier for you to fall asleep, thank goodness, but you still had a bit of trouble staying asleep. The adjustment wasn't as easy as you had hoped.  


At 10:00 PM, your alarm clock blared next to you. Your groggy hand slapped the dismissal button, making the noisy device shut up until further directions. You shook off the weight of abrupt waking, slid out of bed, and readied yourself to meet your team for the briefing in the lobby.  


Surprisingly, you weren't the last one to show up – Toby was only a few seconds behind you. Slenderman remained quiet until all four of the Proxies were gathered.  


“Your target is a woman by the name Edea Carter,” Slenderman bluntly began. “She resides alone in a cabin deep within a vast woodland. Edea currently suffers the middle stages of the Slender-sickness; seizures are expected.”  


“Slender-sickness?” You inquired, interrupting the briefing.  
Just as you heard one of your fellow Proxies sigh, you were dumbfounded by sudden slap to your mouth. The force turned your head to the side, even darkening your vision for a second as you tried to collect what had just happened.  


“Perhaps I've been too lenient with you as of late,” your master's voice snarled. “You've forgotten your place as a Proxy.” He scowled down to you, the defined muscles of his brown knitted tightly.  


Still flabbergasted by what had just happened, you simply stared up to Slenderman. A warm, tickling fluid crawled down you chin. Your bottom lip throbbed with discomfort. It had been split open, though not deep enough for stitches.  


Everyone stared at you, waiting for your response. Once you finally gathered your thoughts, you wiped away the blood with your sleeve and whispered just loud enough for them to hear, “Yes, master. Please forgive my audacity.” You lowered your eyes to the floor and gave in to submission. So much for going into the mission without a scratch.  


“To continue,” Slenderman returned to briefing your team, “the cabin has a 200-foot radius of clearance from the forest line. I have my suspicions as to why vegetation will not easily grow near it, but you will not be harmed.  


“Edea Cart is presumed to be a friend of Gerald Macky, due to her possession of another disruptor device. I want that device deactivated and brought to me. You will subdue Edea at all costs – do not kill her; restrain and silence. Gather any useful evidence along your way. Once both targets are properly retrieved, you will rendezvous to the front porch. Toby will ensure the cabin's destruction, then I will transport everyone back here.”  


“Yes!” Ticci Toby hissed with glee.  


The team was then dismissed to gather the necessary equipment.  


As the four of you entered a room across from the weaponry, Toby called dibs on the restraints and gag for Edea. Masky casually suggested that he take a couple of syringes of sedatives, just in case. Hoodie claimed the task of locating the disruptor. This left you with gathering evidence of Slenderman – and any other curious objects – for his own narcissism.  


“Why do I have to do the boring crap again?” You griped, not all that interested in looking at _more_ pictures of your master being creepy.  


“Look, we all have our usual assignments,” Hoodie explained as he gathered a tool pouch and some basic hand tools. “Sometimes, we mix it up in case one of us is out for a mission, but we otherwise just take the same route.”  


“This mission is pretty dangerous, though,” Masky reasoned as he prepared some syringes and capped them. “Edea's in the middle stages of Slender-sickness, so she's going to be irrationally violent once she realizes we're there.”  


You gulped, mentally going over all the possible ways this woman be could be seen as 'dangerous' to your superior Proxies. “Dangerous how?”  


Toby dumped some bullet-proof vests on the table in the center of the room. “Put t-this on _under_ a layer of your c-clothes. If-f she sees t-that you have it on, she'll aim somewhere else t-that it-t isn't.” He took off his hoody and slipped on one of the vests. Hoodie and Masky followed soon after.  


Feeling your face pale at the thought of being shot by an actual gun – not some paintball – and its deadly ammo, you quickly took off your long coat and secured the vest onto your torso. You glanced a final once-over through your coat pockets to ensure that your collection of knives were secured. Confirming such, you waited for the boys to finish preparing before following them back out to the lobby.  


Slenderman stood there expectantly, still as a tree on a windless night. You and your team approached him, ready to carry out orders. No words were exchanged. Your master sprouted and extended his inky tendrils to the four of you, making contact and transporting everyone to the starting point of the mission.  


Your surroundings abruptly changed to a pine forest. The crisp scent filled your nostrils. You noticed the sudden break of a tree line to your side. Beyond this line was a large, circular clearing of dying grass. Within the center of it all was a wood cabin, dark and silent. You wondered if anyone had touched the place in the past few months.  


Slenderman then made contact with his Proxies once more, creating a delayed connection for when the disruptor would be turned off. Making note that the nearest entrance to the cabin was through the back door, your team was sent off to begin the capture of Edea Carter.  


Masky and Toby lead the team, trying out each door and window available on the back porch. They all seemed to be locked, except for a single window that Toby managed to wiggle open its stubborn hinges. The excitement of the hunt was beginning to take its full effect on you, causing your pulse to race with adrenaline. Your heart briefly stopped, however, when Toby went to give a good push of the window to open it completely.  


Without warning, Hoodie tackled his teammate to the porch floor. He quickly rolled off, no sooner receiving a tongue-lashing from Toby, but the stuttering mess of a boy was ignored as Hoodie explained himself. “There's a gun rigged to the window,” the yellow-clad man hissed, trying keep the team's presence minimized.  


Upon glancing toward the culprit window at Hoodie's claim, you faintly noticed the mouth of a double-barrel shotgun peeking through the darkness of the cabin's atmosphere. “How did you see that,” you asked Hoodie, knowing you never would have noticed it without specifically looking for it.  


As both Hoodie and Toby recovered from their tumble, Masky moved in disable the rigging, keeping clear of the gun's line-of-fire. Hoodie explained, “Proxies eventually develop night-vision.” He tried to stay quiet, as though some unwanted ear might be listening.  


“Why don't I have it yet?” You looked into the window again, squinting your eyes to see almost no difference to your usual vision in the dark.  


“It develops faster when the Proxy is properly synced to their master.”  


“Then why didn't Toby notice it?”  


There was an uncomfortable shift from the occasionally twitching boy, “I wasn't wat-tching for t-traps. G-got excited about b-burning the p-place.”  


“This is why master doesn't always tell you ahead of time,” Masky mumbled. His mood quickly changed to a positive note when a metallic _click_ sounded from his direction. “Got it. Let's go.”  


The four of you slipped through the fully opened window, carefully moving around the gun until it was properly dismantled from its makeshift stand and unloaded. Masky pocketed the bullets and kept the gun. “Free gear,” he shrugged at you, knowing you weren't familiar with how Slenderman or his Proxies acquired their weapons and materials. Granted, you weren't all that surprised.  


As Masky and Toby walked ahead to search for Edea, Hoodie stopped you from following them. He said, “If you happen to run into Edea, under no circumstances should you speak. We want the illusion that we're incapable of communication.” To this, you nodded, wondering if Edea had already heard your team speaking to each other. To two of you moved on to carry out your roles in the mission.  


You were the only one without a fully-synced Proxy's night-vision, and that made it no easier to find your way around the cabin home. What little moonlight gleamed through the windows was barely enough to keep you from running into walls and furniture, but you were still shuffling and feeling your way around. Your eyes were still slowly adjusting, which gave you hope that you would eventually be able to search more casually. Maybe it would be a good investment to carry a red flashlight with you on future missions.  


Eventually, your vision did adjust enough for you to get around without turning on a light, but it wasn't a comfortable level of vision. The very idea that Edea Carter could be hiding in the thick darkness, waiting to jump you, kept your heart racing with anticipation. You soon found yourself down a hall, to which you discovered a door to your immediate right. Before opening the door, you decided to press your ear against it, hoping to hear evidence of anyone who might be hiding in the room beyond.  


After long, silent moments of listening, you settled on the fact that you heard no evidence of life inside the room. You did your best to quietly open the door, slowly turning the metal knob, but even its singular _click_ sounded far too loud for your preference. After cringing and hesitating to push the door open, you begin to follow through.  


The muffled sounds of something rustling somewhere across the house caused your heart to skip a beat. You flinched at the possibility that the source of the noises was much closer than it really was. After a few moments of gathering your wits, you repeated the sound in your head, making yourself understand that it was nowhere near you. It was still safe – as far as you saw. You pushed open the door, slowly revealing the room's contents to you.  


Across the room was a window, clear and glowing with moonlight. The room was much easier to view compared to the hall. From what you could make out, numerous old electronics cluttered the squared space. Shelves lined the walls, burdened with all sorts of mechanic parts and tools.  


You explored the room, picking up things here and there to inspect their peculiarity. A lot of the devices looked to be pre-21st-century.  


Again, you were startled – frozen – by the whining of old springs being stretched from their slumber. You had almost dropped a circuit board that you were looking at, but managed to regain your grasp on it. The cold sound didn't last long, leaving you in silence once again. Still, you remained still for a while longer as you strained your ears for further noises. You eventually convinced yourself that it was safe to continue, setting down the circuit board and running your eyes over the hoard of electronics before you.  


At a glance, you could see ancient computers, VCRs, and film cameras. Most were deconstructed, possibly used for salvage. How they were superior to modern technology, you weren't sure. Nevertheless, you found nothing that involved evidence of Slenderman's existence.  


At first, you were going to simply leave the room, but you decided to pick up a moderately sized object. You left the door cracked open, the object wedged there to remind yourself that you had already explored this room, along with what was in it. If any of it were to change by the time you saw it again, then you would use extreme caution near that room until you were sure it was safe.  


For a moment, as you peered down the dark hallway, you wondered how long you had spent in that room. It seemed like your teammates would work faster than this, or there would a little more noise than the couple you had experienced so far. Maybe Edea was hiding better than you expected? Maybe there were a lot of traps around?  


It struck you that you could have easily been killed by a trap, if that door had been rigged. You mentally shamed yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose as the thought of how stupid you were. Making a note to use more caution, you crept your way to the closed door on the right side of the hall, its form much less visible in the swallowing darkness.  


A flashlight would be all too wonderful right now.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finishing up the mission.  
> Phase one is complete...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freaking love this bluetooth keyboard that I bought!  
> Been writing when on my lunch breaks, along with the weekends that I work, because I'm stuck at a desk for all of those three days. lol Got a new chapter up way faster than usual! Woo!  
> I'm sure y'all love that, too. ;P

The intense darkness of the dead end hallway increased your hearing sensitivity. Your frustration with trying to hide your presence grew with each cautious step as you approached the second door. Even the whispering of your steady breath seemed loud enough for Edea to hear.  


You managed to keep yourself steady, reaching the door and placing a firm ear to its wooden surface. For several long moments, you listened, not expecting to actually hear anything other than the droll hum of silence. At first, you did, but just as you were about to push yourself away, you heard a faint thump that reverberated through the door. Immediately, you pressed your ear against the wood, focusing on the air beyond its wake to confirm what you had heard.  


Nothing; just the piercing silence of the night.  


Not wanting to take any chances, you moved your body flat against the wall, next to the doorway. You reached to the knob to swing its mount open, but found that it was locked. With a light grunt of disapproval, you traced your finger over the knob's entirety, seeing if you could manipulate it some way. To your surprise, you felt two flushed screw heads that held the knob in place. You pulled out one of your thin knives, smirking at your clever idea, and began working on the screws to twist them out of place.  


Carefully, you managed to get the screws loosened. It wasn't easy in the dark, but you were persistent in your curiosity. Once the knob felt loose enough, you diligently wiggled it out, only to be startled by your own mistake: the other side of the knob had nothing holding on to it.  


Clanging and banging, the metal knob-half impacted onto the cabin floor. If no one knew where you were, they did now. You mentally scolded yourself for your impudent plan, though there wasn't really any way to prevent this from happening - except to not do it at all.  


Now that you had made a racket, you figured it'd be best to get back against the wall. If you really did hear someone in that room, and they had a gun, you didn't want to swing the door open with your full body right in the way!  


You held your back against the wall, reached out to the door, and gave it a firm push with what strength you had in your wrist. Though the knob was cheap and light, it still made it harder to simply swing the door open. The rough, wooden floor added the most friction.  


Almost as soon as you pushed the door open, you heard someone charge toward you from inside the room. She made a fierce shrill, her feet pounding across the floor. Her aggressive charge had you quaking in your boots for a short moment, expecting some crazed, rag-clad woman to round the corner.  


To your surprise, you were only half right. When your would-be attacker stumbled passed the doorway, you laid eyes on a frail elder. Her silver hair was pulled back in a clip, and her clothes appeared to be handmade - skilled, yet simple. In her hands was a baseball bat, raised and ready to strike. The only way you could see any of this was thanks to the warm glow of a dim lamp from within the room. You were even able to see the confused and frantic look wash over the woman's face when she realized you weren't readily available for her bat.  


You stood there, motionless as possible, and hoped to anyone who was willing to listen that you weren't noticed.  


No one listened.  


Finishing her careful gaze through the darkness of the hallway, the woman's eyes settled on your frozen form. She moved to swing her large baseball bat, but doubled over in a hoarse coughing fit. Her bat toppled to the floor with a metallic set of clangs. A brief thought of how much damage you could have suffered to you head with such a blunt weapon passed through your mind.  


You took the opportunity to move away from your attacker, brandishing a knife from your jacket. Whether you should run or subdue the woman, you weren't quite sure. You didn't have anything to tie her up. Was this even your target, Edea? Was there anyone else in the house?  


Finally recovering from her violent coughs, the woman straightened herself out to glare at you with a snarl strewn across her face. Her heavy breaths were ragged and furious, filling your ears as though they were the only sound in the entire cabin. She gripped her bat and raised it up again, screeching at you. "What do you want, now?!" You were sure this had to be Edea, seeing as no one else came to her rescue. Even her crazed and desperate demeanor spelled it out for you.  


Not receiving a response from you, Edea swung the bat at your head. You managed to step back and turn your head away just enough to feel the rush of the offending wind pass your ear. "Leave me alone!" Edea screamed, swinging again, as she tried not to give you time to recover from your dodges. You jumped to the side and noticed your attacker's arms were lowered from her recent swing. This was an opportunity you couldn't miss.  


Blade gripped tightly in your hand, you lunged forward and jabbed Edea's arm just below her shoulder. She screamed and tried to strike you with her blunt weapon, but the close proximity and her injured arm made it far too difficult for a successful attack. You tackled her to the floor, trying to subdue the woman with your weight. She fought like a wild animal; biting and crying madly, doing her best to flail her limbs in an effort to fight you off.  


Edea's hand made contact with your face, knocking your mask askew and leaving a burning set of scratches over your cheek. You felt her nails pull at your fresh as they dragged across - no doubt you were going to bleed.  


The thumping of boots drew closer to your scuffle. Before you knew it, Masky and Toby were at your side, pinning Edea down and getting to work on tying her up. Masky didn't hesitate to inject the sedative, and Toby did what he could to help you hold the woman until the drug kicked in.  


It only took a few minutes, though they were long, before Edea finally grew sluggish and eventually gave in to artificial sleep. You breathed out a sigh of relief and climbed off of the thin woman's torso. As soon as you straightened out, you felt a gooey weight on your scratched face adjust to gravity's hold. It crawled down your cheek and along your jaw until it finally dripped away to freedom. You adjusted your mask and traced your fingertips over the battle wound.  


Four scratches. One of them quite shallow, but the other three were painfully deep for damage by fingernails. At the end of the bleeding lines, you felt the remains of your torn flesh that had piled up, barely hanging on. You were sure the rest was under Edea's nails.  


Toby casually tied Edea's arms behind her back, securing her hands together and winding some of the rope around her chest. He bound her ankles with the rest of the rope he had. Masky pulled out the knife you had pierced into Edea's arm, then handed it to you, blood and all.  


"Thanks," you mumbled, still fixated on your battle wound and how badly it was bleeding out. It didn't seem too heavy, but the blood was still seeping out at a steady rate. Eventually, it would clot - long before it would become life-threatening. You took the blade from your teammate, wiping it over your pant leg a couple of times to clean off the blood, then stuff it back into its designated pocket.  


"Find anything on our master?" Masky asked, examining your scratches. He didn't seem concerned with getting you immediate medical attention.  


Shaking your head, you focused your thoughts on what you had seen of the cabin, so far. "I only got to explore one room," you said, aiming your thumb to the door further up the hall. "All it had were a bunch of electronics and old gadgets."  


Masky glanced in the room's direction. "He'll want to know about that. Those are probably used to make that frequency disruptor."  


"Yeah. Most of them were taken apart."  


With the upper half of Edea lifted into his arms, Toby butted in to the conversation, "Hoodie st-till hasn't got-t-tten the disruptor t-taken care of, so you still need t-to search the p-place, ____."  


"Right," you nodded, watching Masky pick up Edea's legs. "Any leads, so I don't waste time?"  


"Come on," Masky lead the way back up the hall, helping Toby with carrying the unconscious woman. You obediently followed, making note of the house's layout as best as you could in the poor lighting situation.  


Pointing deeper into the house, Masky directed you to a doorway that he said would lead into a kitchen. To the furthest right corner of that was a small room containing photo-curing supplies. A nod was all you needed to give your teammates before slinking off in your tasked direction. You heard the men move elsewhere, most likely to the front porch to prepare for departure.  


Luckily, the kitchen had a window. The silver moonlight illuminated your way across the tiled floor. It was just enough for you to see your target room. You approached the door, finding it slightly ajar. After a few short seconds of feeling your hand around on the inside wall, you flipped on the deep red light. Since Masky and Toby told you about the room, you figured they had checked it for traps already. It seemed safe enough with the door having been opened.  


Pushing the thin door further open, you peered inside to gaze upon the full crimson glow. Across the long room was a pair of sinks. Above them, a line was hung, still burdened with photos that had recently been printed. The walls on either side of you were the most interesting part, though. They were littered with photos, all of which where either connected with thumb tacks and colored string, had frantic notes scribbled next to them, or both.  


You wondered, though: Why keep the photos in the dark room if they're already cured? Wouldn't it be easier to see?  


Squinting your eyes and trying desperately to focus in the dim lighting, you studied a section of the photos, hoping to find something that pieced it all together. From what you could see, every single photo had captured your master's image. There was something off about his surroundings, though. Things looked too various in age or were out of place. There were distortions radiating like heat from Slenderman's form - some more obvious than others. You hadn't seen these effects in the other photos you had glanced over in the Tall One's collection. There was no way these had been photo-shopped, either.  


"____," Slenderman called from within your head. "Time to rendezvous."  


"I found something you might want to know about," you mumbled, knowing that your master could hear your thoughts by now. The wait didn't last long, and you heard him command you to return to him, anyway. The photos wouldn't be necessary.

  


When you made it to the front porch, you found your team waiting in silence. Edea was still unconscious, laid out on the floor in her restraints. Toby looked a little upset as he hung his head and kicked at the porch's surface; his twitches were more frequent, too. Slenderman has his head turned in your direction, standing there patiently. You felt naked, in a sense, that you had returned with nothing but an injury to yourself, even though orders had been changed.  


As soon as you drew in close to the other Proxies, Slenderman extended his tendrils and made contact with all present beings. Smells changed. Surroundings altered as quick as a blink. It was mind-boggling how smooth and almost unnoticeable a slender-walk felt.  


Everyone parted their ways. Slenderman lifted Edea into his arms and wandered off down the hall with her. You recalled that dungeonesque room being that way and gulped. Your fellow Proxies headed down to the equipment room, familiar with the routine of cleaning and putting away gear; you followed.  


"So, what happens with the cabin?" You asked after a long while of silence between everyone. There wasn't much to be put away, save for the bullet-proof vests. "Wasn't it supposed to be burned down?" Toby immediately whined at the mention of this.  


"Oh, quit," Hoodie shoved the goggled young man in his shoulder as he walked by. "You'll get your bon-fire after our master's done with his investigation." He received a stubborn grunt in reply.  


The four of you soon exited the weapons room and parted ways. Two steps in, and you halted at the sound of a familiar woman's terrified scream from somewhere within the walls of the mansion. Toby, Masky, and Hoodie continued their trek as if nothing had happened. Of course, terrified shrieks from the torture chamber was a normal thing here; you rolled your eyes and tried to tune out Edea's cries as you continued your way to the nearest bathroom.  


Once you were able to peer into a mirror, you found that the scratches on your cheek weren't nearly as deep as they felt. Granted, they broke plenty of veins to justify the amount of blood you lost. Much of your neck had been stained by your own blood. You easily used half a roll of toilet paper before most of the dried crimson was cleaned off. The area of your fresh wound was tender and practically glowing red with irritation. Edea's fingernails were probably full of dirty germs that were going to get these scratches infected.  


You searched the bathroom for basic first-aid supplies, hoping for some rubbing alcohol - the anticipated pain made you secretly pray you wouldn't find any, though. There were plenty of cotton swabs, cotton balls, compression bandages, and band-aids, but not much else. Instead, you decided to wash the scratches off with some antibacterial hand soap and slap on some large bandages. That would be enough until you could find your way to the medical room.  


Upon entering your bedroom, however, you found a tray of medical supplies at the foot of your bed. Laughing Jack must have stopped by after Slenderman gave him orders for the stuff. Smirking, you shrugged at the situation you should have known was coming and inspected the tray's contents. There was a tube of antibacterial cream, which you were happy to get; the soap had already dried out your raw skin. You took off your undersized band-aids, wincing as they pulled at the tender flesh, and rubbed on the cream. It's moist texture was a beautiful relief.  


After properly doctoring your face, you sat on your bed and pulled the notebooks of vengeful plotting out from under your covers. Most everything was drawn out. All you needed to do was gather the rest of the necessary supplies and get things set up.  


After a nap.  


The coolness of the night was too familiar to your sleep cycle. Even after sleeping a full eight hours before the mission, you felt the need to sleep again. Your eyelids grew heavy, and your vision waned in and out of focus. You tried to continue going over your plans for BEN, making sure no flaws were missed. Eventually, though, you were out like a light, never even noticing the abrupt switch to darkness as though you had been slender-walked into an abyss of nothingness.

  


You awoke some time in the painfully early hours of the morning, feeling refreshed, for the most part. At some point, you had rolled onto your injured cheek, and your mask had fallen to the floor. Surprisingly, you didn't recall any strange visits from your master, which you were partially glad to realize. Maybe Edea was enough of a play-toy for him.  


A twinge in your chest had your brows twisting with confusion. Did you just get jealous at the thought of Slenderman spending more time with Edea than you?  


Cursing under your breath, you slid out of your bed and searched your clothes drawer for new garments. "I'm getting Stockholm Syndrome. What the actual fuck." You paced to the bathroom and stripped, completely in a baffled daze at the preposterous feeling you had experienced. Throughout your shower, you were functioning on autopilot - that is, until you remembered that Slenderman could very well be reading your mind the whole time.  


You cursed at yourself again, desperate to think of anything but your master and the intimate visits. "Revenge on BEN. Revenge on BEN," you chanted to yourself just over the roaring of the shower water. This morning was already way too weird for your liking.

  


Following the shower was treatment to your face. The scratches had already filled with healthy scabs, and the redness was fading. You remembered about your previously broken nose and inspected the bruises around your eyes. Either you were still tired, or the bruises were still there, but they were just about gone. Sighing to yourself, you passed a thought about how you seemed to get a new wound right after the other healed. "I hope this doesn't leave a scar," you mumbled to yourself. "If it does, it better look bad-ass." Still, you put on the antibacterial cream, bandaged up your cheek, and finished dressing for the day.  


Breakfast was next, which you scrounged up what you could and brought it to your bedroom. There you could eat and make a checklist of the items you would need to carry out your ultimate revenge on the Hyrulian ghost.  


On your hand-drawn map, you had marked off what little you had taken care of so far. All wall sockets within the vicinity were covered with plastic, faux plugs - super-glued for security. All wires were traced to ensure they wouldn't lead to an exit or entry point for BEN to cut you off during your escape, if need be. The only thing you really needed to find was a water-tight, transparent container that could hold the _Majora's Mask_ game; you planned to slip it into a Ziploc bag, just for extra measure. Once you had those, it was just a matter of perfect timing.  


Speaking of which - you checked the notes of BEN's routine - he should be heading to the kitchen within the next hour. It was a wonder why he even ate at all, seeing as he was a ghost. Maybe it was for pleasure? Or perhaps out of habit from his human days? Either way, it offered an opportunity for you to sneak into the living room and snatch the game.  


But you still needed that case.  


Maybe there was some Tupperware or something in the kitchen. If you were caught, you could play it off as though you were fixing your own food or something.  


Finishing off your breakfast, you scurried back downstairs and searched the kitchen cabinets. There was no doubt that supplies were lacking, but surely there was at least one sealed container that fit your requirements. Most of what you found were ceramic plates, bowls, and the like, along with pots, pans, and miscellaneous sorts of kitchenware. Nothing, so far, was what you needed - not in the least.  


It wasn't until you had searched the kitchen high and low, and you gave up with a defeated sigh, that you noticed something sitting atop the kitchen counter in plain sight. It took you a while to register in your mind what exactly you were seeing. The transparent, plastic container came complete with latches to hold the lid down. It was square and stout. Actually, you recognized this type of container - a sandwich box! Upon closer inspection, you noticed a rubber lining within the box, which indicated a water-tight seal.  


Perfect.  


But how did it get there? You were sure you had scanned over the cabinets when you first came into the kitchen.  


Shrugging, you didn't bother to look too far into the gift-horse's mouth, and snatched up the sandwich box. Just to be safe, you sealed it up and tested it in the sink. Needless to say, the test was successful - the box's interior still bone dry after being submerged.  


You didn't waste time in checking out if everything was clear. The bathroom was empty, and the living room was filled in silence. A clock on the wall indicated that it was 4:25 AM. Plenty of time to get things set up.  


First thing was first: get the game.  


Watching your back, front, and any other side you felt vulnerable, you crept over to the N64 as though any indication of your presence would set off some sort of alarm. _Majora's Mask_ sat patiently in the cartridge slot, waiting for its ominous tale to be played. You took a moment to look around and listen carefully for any potential witnesses, then placed firm hands on the cartridge and the console. With a careful tug, you pulled the game out of its tight slot and froze.  


Up until now, you hadn't realized just how nervous you were about the whole thing. Sure, you were tense, but the consequences you would face, if this went horribly wrong, didn't seem real, until now. This was the point of no return. If you left now, you would have to carry through or die trying. You could put the game back and give up. If you did that, though, BEN would continue to bully you.  


No. You swore to fight against bullies when you killed the ones at your high school. There was no way you were going to deal with it here, too.  


With newfound courage, you stood tall and sneaked away to the bathroom that BEN would frequent. If you could finish setting it up and get out of there before he even notices you out of your room, things would go much smoother.  


You sealed the game cartridge in the sandwich box, making sure that it was properly latched. For extra precaution, you made note not to use water temperatures too extreme, so you aimed as close to room temperature as possible. Only when the water level was higher than the sandwich box, did you realize that the game wasn't enough weight to keep it submerged. You slew out multiple curses, adrenaline surging now. Panic began to set in.  


What could you use in short notice to weight it down? Your head whipped around the room in search of ideas. Most everything was made of plastic or cloth. Neither of those things would add any weight, much less fit in the box. You frantically checked the drawers at the sink, hoping for something small and dense.  


There was a set of nail clippers, which you snatched up without hesitation; but it might not be enough. You rummaged through the drawer of new and used toothpaste tubes, hair brushes, razors, and various other things. You managed to find another set of nail clippers - this one bigger than the first - and nothing else. "Why are bathroom items so light," you hissed through your teeth. Still, you placed the clippers in the sandwich box, resealed it, and tried again. This time, the box sat a little lower in the water, barely breaking surface, but it just wouldn't sit on the bottom of the tub!  


You grabbed at your hair, feeling your heart race and your mouth fill with cotton. BEN would be here soon, if you kept this up!  


In a full state of panic, you sprinted out of the bathroom and down the hall to the back patio. The only heavy thing you could think of at this point was a rock. You needed several small rocks, and the patio was the best place to find them.  


The back door was left wide open - you had other things to worry about. All around the brick flooring were pots of flora and herbs. You scanned frantically over all the area in search of the decorative pebbles that one would expect in a garden of this sort.  


Then, your eyes rested upon a segregated bed of lilies beyond the potted plants. You rounded the turf and wasted no time with grabbing a handful of the smooth, white pebbles and dashing off back into the mansion. Your growing winded from the rush, but you continued on, skidding around the corner of the doorway and into the bathroom. Opening the box again, you plucked the nail clippers out and tossed them aside, then dumped your handful of pebbles on top of the game cartridge. After shaking the box a little so that the pebbles would settle around the game, you reattached the lid, secured the latches, and placed the hostage item into the center of the water-filled bathtub. It nearly reached to your shoulder, which was exactly what you needed. If BEN were to brave out grabbing the game, he would have to nearly shove his face into the water to do it - his short physique would work against him in this situation.  


You dried off, calming down a little. Tossing the towel into the hamper, you sneaked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind you. With tender steps, you made your way to the staircase and began climbing with a hint of pep, hoping that you hadn't gotten too far behind schedule.  


Phase one of the mission was a success, though it almost collapsed right before your eyes. As soon as you closed your bedroom door, you let out a heavy sigh and sank into the arms of relief. Unfortunately, you weren't completely out of harm's way.  


Phase two would soon begin.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEN suffers.  
> Reader-chan does gardening.  
> Time goes by.

Despite your best efforts to patiently sit and wait within the confines of your bedroom, thoughts of everything going wrong whirled in the back of your mind. The anticipation of hearing BEN's reaction to your personalized trap for him flared your nerves. Each passing second seemed like minutes. You regularly checked the bedside clock, only to see that time had barely moved.  


The defeat of impatience lifted you from your bed when you pinged the idea to hide all evidence of your crime. You gathered the notebooks and utensils, only to find yourself unsure of where to stash them until further notice. Eventually, you would have to dispose of them, right? For now, you didn't want BEN to know this was all your doing.  


Under your mattress? No, that's too obvious.  


In the night-stand's drawer? Still too obvious.  


Maybe in the armoire? You could hide them under some clothes. The underwear drawer would be good! Surely BEN didn't go digging around in a lady's private clothing.  


This seemed to give you enough confidence to do just that. You buried the materials at the very bottom of the underwear drawer and covered them thoroughly. At some point, it might be a good idea to rig your room with all sorts of false bottoms and hidden storage spots. Would Slenderman be okay with that? Considering that the mansion was affected by his fourth-dimension influences, you weren't sure how long your hiding spots would stay. You had seen the television destroyed twice already, only to find it renewed to perfection a short time after. Perhaps it would be best to ask permission before remodelling your room.  


With nothing to do again, and still no sign of BEN's presence, you made a second attempt to wait on your bed. If he were to try surprising you in the bedroom, then you could pretend that you were sleeping, hopefully making him hesitate that it was really all your doing. If you were truly lucky, BEN might think that you're too much of a newbie to pull this sort of stunt. Maybe he would try blaming it on someone else? Hopefully not one of your teammates, because then you would have to deal with their collective anger from taking all the heat.  


Finally, a terribly shriek jolted you from your thoughts. You flinched in your bed, quickly sitting up and whipping your head around to make sure the screaming wasn't actually in your room. It pierced the mansion's atmosphere as though walls didn't exist. This had to be BEN. He sounded as though he were being brutally murdered, but surely that wasn't the case.  


With a cautious mind, you crept over to the bedroom door and cracked it open for a peek outside. You didn't want to go out before anyone else, lest you seemed like you were excited to hear BEN's painful cries.  


At the top of the staircase were Masky and Hoodie, peering down and looking uncertain about the situation. It was an odd sight, though. You had rarely seen your fellow Proxies without their masks and gear. The only way you were able to tell them apart was their physique. Hoodie was a bit thinner and taller than Masky. Though, now that you noticed, their hair color was a little different, too. Masky's hair was a dark shade of brown, while Hoodie's was closer to a dirty blonde.  


Shaking the curious thoughts from your head, you focused on the current state of affairs and walked out of your bedroom with the best confused and tired demeanor you could fake. As you approached the two men, another door opened to reveal Toby's groggy and irritated face. He was also without his usual headgear, but this was the first time you saw him this way. It was a shocker, really, because the most notable thing about him was the large, fleshy scar on one side of his mouth. His teeth were bared due to the lack of skin to cover them. From the looks of it, the scar was from a burn, but you tried not to stare.  


"What the shit is going on?" Toby growled as he scratched his backside and trudged over to the rest of the gathering.  


At the moment of questioning, both Hoodie and Masky turned their eyes to you with accusing stares. It shouldn't have been a surprise that they assumed you were responsible, since you had asked for their help in getting revenge against BEN some time ago. They knew, but probably didn't expect you to go through with it. Still, your heart sank at their acknowledgement, terrified that they'd rat you out before you were prepared - let's face it, you weren't ever going to be prepared for BEN's wrath.  


In an effort to postpone your inevitable torture, you shushed your teammates, trying to keep them from talking about it too loud. Even with BEN still screaming, you were worried he might somehow hear the discussion. "Okay! Okay! It was me," you confessed. "But don't tell him!" Your hushed voice sounded more desperate than you wanted to admit.  


"What the hell did you do to get him like that?” Hoodie asked, looking at you with raised brows. He seemed impressed.  


You gave them a short summary of all the steps you took and what BEN was screaming about downstairs. All three men simultaneously responded with various versions of, "H-ho-oly shit." They were now at awe with your achievement. You couldn't help but grin. If things went any better, your head would surely swell with ego.  


Another bout of BEN screaming incoherent babbles rolled through the air. Masky looked back down the staircase with a concerned expression, "Maybe we should check on him, though. He sounds pretty bad." Hoodie and Toby agreed, though they admitted they were more curious than worried. BEN was a Creepypasta who treated them poorly, after all. Why should they care all that much?  


At that, the four of you descended the stairs. You weren't too sure about viewing BEN's miserable state, though. "What if he attacks us?"  


Hoodie coolly replied, "You should be more concerned with yourself." This stopped you in your tracks, left behind at the foot of the staircase. He was right, after all. If BEN had any idea that you were guilty of his torture, then he would unleash a world of hell on you. Sure, you de-energized all possible ways that BEN could cut you off in the mansion, but there were still risks you couldn't control.  


You shook your head, tossing worry from your mind as best you could. Just stay oblivious and BEN would have no reason to accuse you of all this.  


Catching up with your fellow Proxies at the bathroom doorway, you found the three crowded around the open door. They were watching BEN writhe and squirm on the floor. It was anything but a pleasant sight.  


Now, BEN's words, though few, were understandable. You could only make out three short phrases: "Give it to me", "I need it", and "It calls". The Hyrulian ghost was gripping his hair, tearing out tufts here and there. His scalp was bleeding. Smears of blood covered his form, along with the bathroom floor. Surely, most of the blood came from his perpetually weeping eyes, but it still created a gory scene. His body contorted into all sorts of strenuous ways, making you cringe at the thought of experiencing it yourself. There were even scattered patches of flames around the bathroom, never burning anything, just existing.  


The grotesque sight before you swayed your original hatred toward him. In a way, you felt sorry for BEN. Maybe you had gone too far? You gave in to your humanly kindness and began moving to push though the men at the doorway. A large hand rested on your shoulder, stopping you. With a wondering gaze, you looked behind to find Slenderman staring ahead at BEN's slowing form. The tall being gently pushed his way past his Proxies, though they moved back as soon as they noticed him. Slenderman approached the bathtub, neatly rolling up a sleeve, and bent to reach into the water. His pulled the game from its watery cage and plucked up a nearby towel to dry off the sandwich box. Once satisfied that excess water wouldn't drip onto the precious contents, your master opened the box and retrieved the game cartridge. He casually walked out of the bathroom just as BEN fell silent and still, frozen in a catatonic state that resembled some sort of modern, abstract sculpture.  


You and your fellow Proxies followed Slenderman down the hall and to the living room, leaving BEN in solitude. As you watched your master tenderly shove the game cartridge into the N64 console, your gathering of curious humans looked like some sort of comedic group bumping and tripping on each other from the doorway. At first, nothing happened; then, once Slenderman turned on the television and console, a pale green wisp of light slithered from the bathroom and into the N64. The television screen showed Majora's Mask across it, then completely skipped the file selection and opening credits. It opened to a spot in the town, the Song of Unhealing playing in the background, and in the center of the screen was BEN's statuesque avatar facing away from the viewers. He didn't say a word. He didn't look over his shoulder. BEN simply stood there, refusing to face the outside world.  


Satisfied with BEN's current state, Slenderman walked out of the living room and rounded the corner to put the wall between himself and the television. He handed you the sandwich box, still full of rocks, without speaking or directing his lacking eyes to you. Before you could open your mouth to ask him what to do with the box, your master disappeared. Most likely, he slender-walked to wherever he goes when he isn't bothering you. It was hard to tell when he was actually doing business or just being a stalker, sometimes.  


Hoodie, Masky, and Toby all understood that the show was over and it was time to get back to the normal day's routine. They all gave you a firm pat on the shoulder for, hopefully, a job well done, and made their way to the kitchen. You watched them, unsure of what to do at that point. Did Slenderman want you to dispose of the box? Or maybe he wanted you to just put everything away, since it was all over.  


You shrugged in defeat, deciding to just put everything back the way it was. Repairing the wiring would be a hassle. You didn't know the first thing about electrical work. Too bad it was a useless endeavor.  


First, you went to the back patio and dumped the rocks where you originally found them, not wanting to mess with Slenderman's Zen or whatever. Once that was done, you headed to the kitchen to put the sandwich box away.  


It was a good idea to eat breakfast when you did. Getting to anything edible would be near impossible, according to what you saw upon entering the kitchen's doorway. Along with the three other Proxies, Eyeless Jack was there, looking roughed up as though he had just returned from a mission. His clothes were stained with mud and blood. In fact, you only then recalled that he and Jeff had been out hunting this whole time.  


With a nervous air, you silently walked across the kitchen floor to get to the sink. Your eyes held firm on Eyeless Jack's hunched form as he rummaged through the refrigerator. The number of times that he had threatened and harmed you, it was only right to be wary of him.  


Upon approaching the sink, you rinsed out the sandwich box, cleaning the rock dust and bits of sand that happened to get in. You noticed a few scratches on the transparent plastic, and there was little you could do about it, but it made you wonder how much damage the game cartridge had suffered. You shrugged and grabbed a small towel, drying off your former tool of revenge. It was then put away in the nearest cabinet, not that any of them had much in their confines to matter.  


You turned around to promptly exit the kitchen, only to find a pair of hollow, black eye sockets and grey skin filling your vision. Needless to say, you were no less than startled. Jack had been standing right behind you for who knows how long. His blue mask was lifted to make way for the kidney he took a greedy bite of. In his other hand was a jar full of pickled kidneys. Even without eyes, you felt a powerful stare coming from Jack. He seemed to be daring you to make a move, though all you could muster was a shiver down your spine as he slowly shredded up the kidney flesh in his mouth of sharp teeth.  


After several moments of watching Eyeless Jack chew his mouthful of kidney, you guessed - hoped - that he was just toying with you. It was then that you gulped down your fear and politely excused yourself to step around him. As soon as your shoulder was even with his, however, Jack stopped you with a bump, leaned into your ear, and said with a low growl, "You better not try that shit on me." He then took a violent bite of his half-eaten kidney, some of the juices squirting onto the side of your neck, and stepped over to the cabinets as though nothing had happened. You heard him open one of the doors and retrieve a bowl.  


At first, you hesitated to move again, but soon moved on to the kitchen doorway with quick stride. Your fellow Proxies didn't bother to help, though you noticed awkward glances from them as you left.  


When you successfully escaped the kitchen without further incident, you picked up your pace a bit until the hall opened up to the foyer. There, you released tense breath and paused in wonderment of how to spend the rest of your day. The gentle sunlight gleaming from the decorative windows on either side of the front doors caught your eyes, bringing forth thoughts of how nice it was outside. Perhaps you could go-  


"Oh shit," your heart sank when you remembered, "the garden!"  


Like a gust of wind pushing you from behind, your body hurried out of the mansion and high-tailed it to the bed of planted seeds you had forgotten. You mentally joked about how it would be your luck if Laughing Jack's gum ball actually sprouted, but due to your neglect, wilted and died. So far, you hadn't seen the monochrome clown angry, which worried you a great deal. He was still a Creepypasta, after all, and that meant that he could do some terrible things. Your skin crawled at the thought of Jack's fury over his failed candy tree being your fault.  


You rounded the mansion's corner, quickly assessing the situation. The dirt looked dry, and weeds had begun to creep their way over the seed beds. Though your breath was growing heavy, you made a mad dash for the tool shed and pulled out the watering can. The water pump couldn't distribute its contents fast enough, but you managed to fill the can before running to the garden and drowning it as best you could. Hell, you weren't even sure if the seeds were still alive, but getting the dirt soggy again wouldn't hurt, right?  


After numerous return trips between the pump and garden, you were satisfied with how dark the soil had become. It was now time to weed the place. So, you started at one corner, lowering to your hands and knees. This was going to be another long and tedious process. You did your best not to rush, trying to prevent accidentally pulling up any possible sprouts that may have survived.  


While moving into a physical auto-pilot, your mind slowly began to wander into comedic territory. Since the garden had dried up within five days, that meant it still hadn't rained at the mansion. In fact, you couldn't recall a single day of rain since you first woke up in the Creepypasta world. Did it ever rain in this world? If not, then how did the plant life survive? Where did the water in the pump come from? Did Slenderman just use the one watering can to hydrate his forest? That would take a lot of his time!  


Then the image of your master using both hands and all eight tendrils to water everything appeared in your thoughts. Your mind continued to make the idea ridiculous by placing a sun hat on the being's bald head. This lead to adding a sun dress, and that's when you snorted out a devious cackle.  


"It's a shame, really," the voice of the very being you were laughing at startled you from your thoughts. Your head whipped up to see Slenderman standing not too far from the garden. "One moment, I'm proud to have you as my Proxy," he continued. "And another moment, I want to disembowel you." By this point, you were sweating cold bullets, mortified that Slenderman had read your thoughts about him.  


From what you could see, though, your master didn't look angry. The skin on his head seemed relaxed. Maybe he wasn't all that mad?  


"Besides," Slenderman stepped up to the edge of your garden, "I'm not required to water the flora of this world." Yeah, he definitely saw what you were imagining of him. "While our realm occasionally rains, the vegetation is accustomed to it. The plants that you're trying to cultivate are native to the human realm; thusly, they'll require plenty of attention to flourish successfully."  


Furrowing your brows, you absorbed the information and made a mental note to visit the garden at least once a day. You almost forgot to respond to Slenderman, seeing as how helpful he was all of a sudden, "Thank you for the generous information, sir." Surely your silence would have been perceived as rude.  


When you looked back up to see if your master was going to watch you the whole time again, you found that he had disappeared. With a shrug, you went back to pulling up weeds and grass vines. Dirt was getting under your nails, and your fingers were becoming stained. A thorough scrubbing would be a good idea after all this was done.  


To your surprise - and ultimate relief - you later found a single sprout, brightly green with life, just under a small clump of soil that a weed root had pulled with it. From the row you were on, it was most likely a potato eye starting to grow. You made sure that the sprout was securely in the dirt before continuing on. Even if it was just one seed that survived, you would be happy.

 

It had been a total of fifteen days since you first awoke in Slenderman's mansion. Within that time, enough things had happened to make a person's head spin right off their shoulders, but here you were. Somehow, you were still intact. By some miracle - or pure, dumb luck - you were still alive. You had suffered a handful of wounds, bore through maddening pain, and won fights against hallucinations. While that was expected of a Proxy, you couldn't help but pat yourself on the back for a job well done. Hell, you even outsmarted a legitimate Creepypasta, causing him some serious misery.  


BEN had yet to find out who had rigged his game in the bathroom, and you planned to brag about it at some point, but you couldn't quite find the perfect moment. He recovered from his traumatization, returning to his usual routine of huddling on the couch and playing his game, going hunting on the internet, and fighting with Jeff the Killer.  


Your daily routines went by as close to schedule as possible. The exercising and training for your team left little room for days off. Thanks to Slenderman's healing acceleration on his Proxies, you didn't suffer muscle soreness for long. In fact, your strength was increasing faster than it ever had in the human world. Even your body was toning out to a, dare you suggest, tasteful physique. A once-over in the bathroom mirror caught your attention, noticing your physical changes - and the scars that came with it. Your lower abdomen had a faint, horizontal line where Eyeless Jack tried to steal your kidney. The scratches that Adea Carter left on your cheek healed well, but you were forever marked by three soft lines in your skin. She wasn't the last of the humans targeted by Slenderman, though.  


Nearly once a week brought a new mission to take down or capture a human. Each one of them had some connection with the other. That frequency disruptor was what tied them all together, and Slenderman grew increasingly frustrated with it. Even with the long distances apart, these humans had the same defences – and then some – against your master. He found out the truth only when BEN was asked to search all names of the victims so far.  


Slenderman was absolutely livid when BEN discovered a forum website dedicated to taking down the tall entity. It wasn't the website, mind you, that set your master off. No, he exploded when BEN casually mentioned that he'd seen the forums some time ago, but didn't think it was worth telling him about it, since they were just humans. You had seen Slenderman assume an intimidating sort of fury when he fought off Eyeless Jack from you, and that was the worst until this point. Compared to how your master acted at BEN's negligence, he was just a puppy protecting his chew toy. Everyone had to leave the mansion for a few hours.  


Come to find out, Slenderman was upset due to his fears that Zalgo would discover the website. While the humans were merely humans, they were smart; they were improving their technology against the Slenderman; they were slowly building upon his weaknesses. If Zalgo were to ever learn what the humans had, the war in the Creeypasta realm would have its tables severely turned against the Slender family's favor.  


Once BEN sobered from his near-death beating, your master immediately set him to collecting every single name on the forum, along with their living address. The site was then corrupted and taken down. BEN was sure to take care of any external links that may lead to sister-sites, too. He reported all details; every line of code, every hyperlink, every image associated with the forum.  


Slenderman disappeared for six days when he was satisfied with BEN's work.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are getting too smart for Slender.  
> Two new OCs are introduced.  
> The big missions begin.

During the dry spell of missions in Slenderman's mansion, you and your fellow Proxies were grew ever more wary of the deadly Creepypastas that shared the home. While things carried on with their usual downtime schedule, there was talk of Jeff and Eyeless Jack considering their options - there was talk of killing Slenderman's supposedly abandoned Proxies. If those two made a decision to carry out such ideas, BEN and Laughing Jack would undoubtedly join in.  


By the fourth day of Slenderman's disappearance, even Toby was growing acting far more serious than you had ever seen him. Your team agreed to stick together so they wouldn't be picked off. It was a bit awkward, though, since you were the only female of the group. Bathroom tasks were anything but embarrassing, since at least one of the boys had to be in the room with you - in case BEN attacked. They at least had the decency to turn away, so long as you held a conversation with them to assure that you were still there. They didn't seem to like the situation, either, but it was all for safety's sake.  


As for sleeping accommodations, the four of you voted on sleeping in your room; it was the cleanest. There were 'watch' shifts, of course. Everyone fought for going first, just so they wouldn't have to be woken up. How long would this last, though? The only thing that kept your hopes up was that your master's brothers hadn't paid a visit to announce his status. Surely they would come to, essentially, adopt your team; they wouldn't waste experienced Proxies, right?  


By the sixth day, nothing had happened. There was the usual routine of training, cleaning, chores, etc. It was this day, however, things began spiraling into a time of true danger - a horror from the 'monsters' point of view.  


You had just finished lunch with the boys. The kitchen was cleaned and tidied up - not that there was much to dirty the place with, considering the dwindling supply of food. With a mighty need to use the restroom, you didn't feel comfortable with having to wait for your team to leave with you. Heck, the rumors of the Creepypastas turning on the Proxies seemed only that - a rumor - after two days of no actual threats from them. You felt safe enough to go on your own for a short while.  


As you swiftly made your way down the hall to the foyer, things seemed typical as ever. The gradual increase of gaming noise from the living room indicated BEN's usual presence. You smirked in relief that you could use the closer toilet on the first floor. About halfway down the hallway, though, his when all hell broke loose.  


He seemed to have phased through the front doors, but you were sure you saw his tall form flicker into existence. Your master stumbled into the foyer, falling to one knee in his exhausted exhausted state. At first, you weren't sure what you were seeing. Your feet had glued themselves to the floor, fighting your urge to run. It took a few moments to process the sight before you, but once it was all registered in your mind, everything came rushing back to normal speed.  


"Master!" You called, sprinting straight for the tattered and scathed being that struggled to rise from his knee. The word had slipped off your tongue so cleanly from the repetitive brainwashing you had received. As you closed in, the damages became clearer. There was an air of distortion over the Slenderman, but you couldn't determine exactly what it was. His clothes were dusty and frayed. His usual pristine condition was ruined by unkemptness. Whatever Slenderman had been doing these past several days, it was keeping him too busy for rest.  


Grabbing onto one of his shaking arms to support his weak body, you did your best to help your master to wherever his wished. All the while, you examined him with wide, disbelieving eyes, "What happened to you? Where have you been?" The questions escaped your lips without concern for your own well-being. If the Tall Man had any strength to strike you at the moment, he wasn't acting on it.  


The sounds of hurried boots drew closer to the foyer from behind you. Expressions of aw and shock sounded from your fellow Proxies as they gathered around. You barely noticed BEN standing by, watching in amazement that Slenderman had returned in such a condition.  


_My room_ , came your master's voice, though it sounded inside your head, rather than broadcasted to everyone. The signal was weak, but you acknowledged and did what you could to help the tall being stand and walk.  


Hoodie took your place under one of Slenderman's arms, seeing as he and Masky were taller than you, it'd be easier to hold of your master. You and Toby followed close, helping in any way that you could. Not long before, you had discovered and explored the mansion's third floor. While most of the doors there were unlocked, one large door remained firmly locked. The mystery of its contents tickled your curiosity. Now, you were finally realizing what stood behind the tall, rosewood door.  


As soon as Slenderman's trembling hand turned the crystal knob and pushed the door ajar, you found yourself gazing with wondering eyes. Hoodie, Toby, and Masky were doing the same, though still trying to get your master to his bed. You were impressed, actually, that Slenderman even had a bed. You didn't think he slept.  


The frame and mattress were longer than any human-sized bedding. You weren't surprised, oddly enough, that he adorned the bedding with fine silks and cushions. The burgundy hue of the pillows and comforter emphasized their soft volume. There was barely a sound as Slenderman collapsed onto the bed, sinking into its feathery hold. In all, you saw your master as nearly pathetic. His weakened state left him barely able to adjust himself in the comforts of his own bed. You were almost ashamed to look at him, turning your head away to spy on what else was in the room.  


There were numerous forms of human luxuries, most of them scented items, fine arts, bonsai trees, and cases of literature. In one corner stood an old record player that was accompanied by a small collection of record disks. You wondered what music he had, certain that most of it was of the fine classical genre. In another wall was a large, walk-in closet, though the folding doors were pushed shut. The wall across from the room's main door held two large windows, each adorned with beautiful sheer curtains. In a way, you were somewhat disappointed by the room. A sliver of your curiosity hoped that there would be oddities unknown to the human realm - something as mysterious as your master's race.  


_Leave_ , came Slenderman's invasive thought, startling you from your prying eyes. You turned your head to look at him for assurance, only to find the Slenderman lying still on his bed, head aimed to the ceiling. Toby gripped your shoulder as he walked by, guiding out into the hall with the rest of your team. They were all far too quiet.  


As soon as the door clicked shut, you heard the lock firmly set. Then, the laconism between the Proxies broke into a flurry of concerns and conspiracy.  


Toby gripped his hair, stricken with despair, "S-shit! He's n-never come back like t-tt-this before. Whatever happened to him was _w-way_ out of our l-league!"  


"Those forum members found something that works," Hoodie pondered aloud. "What if _we_ got ahold of it?"  


"This is our chance to be free!" Masky hissed with hushed excitement. "We just have to find a way back into the human world."  


"What t-the hell is wrong with-th you two?" Toby gawked in disgust at his colleagues. "We're not g-gonna abandon our m-master!"  


"Shut up! _You_ may like it here, but the rest of us have been waiting for this chance."  


"You can stay here and be a slave."  


"We're not crazy, like you."  


"Maybe t-that's why you two n-never fit in."  


"Guys!" Your firm tone halted the three men's banter as they whipped their heads in your direction. "Master's powerful - on par with Zalgo, right? And the humans out there found a way to take our _one_ defense against Zalgo from us. If our master gets cut from the picture, then what? We'd be worse off than before!" By now, you had grown used to the Proxy lifestyle. Most of it, you had begun to enjoy. Even with the demeaning and hurtful punishments here and there, you learned that Slenderman wasn't as bad as he seemed. He pushed his Proxies, yes, but you had all grown stronger because of it. _You_ had become a stronger person, both physically and mentally. For that, you respected Slenderman - looked up to him, even. "This isn't the time or place to conspire against him."  


Giving a firm nod of approval, Toby offered you a fist-bump, to which you returned. The two of you glanced to Masky and Hoodie, who held their silence for a short while in thought.  


Hoodie was the first to speak up, releasing a heavy sigh before giving in. "Fuck! She's right. Even if we did take down our master, what's to stop the his brothers or the other Creepypastas to get revenge?" He cursed again and turned his head away from you, all hope swept away so quickly.  


"There's no way we'd be able to go through with it," Masky lifted his mask and ran a hand over his face. "He'd read our minds and find out about the plot before we could carry out step one." The weariness in his eyes showed a slight indifference to the situation. He had been denied chances at freedom many more times before this.  


"What do we do now?" You asked, wanting to go back in to care for your master, but knowing you had been locked out for an undetermined amount of time.  


"We hurry up and wait," Hoodie replied.

* * *

The rest of the day and the entirety of the next went by with no word from Slenderman. You began to worry that he died in his room. This thought had you check his door, only to find it still locked since the time you and your fellow Proxies  brought him in there. BEN, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, and Jeff had been high-strung since Slenderman's concerning return. They knew that something terrible had happened, and whatever it was, they wouldn't be able to stop it alone.  


During one of your passes by your master's door, you thought you had heard another voice within the room. It wasn't nearly as deep and mature as Slenderman's. This voice sounded innocent and young, full of colorful personality. When you mentioned this to your teammates, they shrugged it off, saying, "It's probably his brother, Splendorman." While you knew that Slenderman had multiple brothers, you had still only met Sexual-Offenderman. This brother sounded far less terrifying or intimidating than the two Slender-beings you had seen so far.  


Finally, after a full day of rest, Slenderman made an appearance to the mansion residents. He broadcasted an announcement for everyone to gather in the briefing room. By this point, you had become fully attuned to your master's telepathic frequencies. The only downfall was that he seemed to talk a lot more; maybe he had tried numerous times before, but they hadn't gone through? You weren't too fond of his snarky comments on the thoughts that floated in your mind. Slenderman was like a mosquito, buzzing around and making you paranoid of his perpetual presence.  


When you entered the briefing room, Slenderman was in his usual place at the table. Upon the table was a set of blueprints spread over it. The prints had red ink markings, accompanied by notes, in strategic places. No doubt, you would hear about it during the meeting. On either side of him were two new people you had yet to meet. BEN stood aside, as well, looking reserved like a whipped dog. The door clicked shut when the rest of the Proxies entered. The meeting began.  


"Most of you are familiar with my accomplice, The Gentleman," Slenderman began introducing the strange new people. The first one was a young man; tall, pale, and decorated with tribalesque markings crawling up his neck. This 'Gentleman' had short brown hair, and icy blue eyes. His attire was simple: blue-jeans, a red shirt, and a long, black coat. You wondered what was so special about him, or if he was even as human as he looked.  


Before you could fuel your curiosity further, Slenderman moved on, "This young lady is Hailey, also known as The Closet Monster," Slenderman's long hand gestured to the small girl at his other side. She was a small, prepubescent girl, possibly able to reach your chest. Her skin was disturbing, to say the least, with its gray tone patched with bruises and rotting flesh. The mess of rusty hair covered her eyes, though you guessed they would be as dreadful as the rest of the girl's appearance. As for her clothes, she seemed to be clad in a sort of Victorian-era style, though the sleeves of her dress hung well past her hands. The tense air around this strange child had you guessing that she was incredibly shy, possibly regretting to be in her current situation. "Hailey has agreed to ally with the Slender Family. I urge everyone to welcome her to the faction," Slenderman instructed. He seemed extra kind to Hailey, as though she might run off at the glance of danger.  


All Proxies gave the girl warm greetings. Fake or not, you weren't quite sure. She, on the other hand, shyly nodded in thanks as she tried not to make eye contact. Slenderman continued, "These two have been aiding me for the duration of my disappearance. This brings me to my next subject: I was hunting the humans that could be located from the forum website BEN had discovered.  


"Hailey and The Gentleman have been scouting most locations, while I went behind to eradicated them. We were able to make a significant dent in their efforts; however, my last infiltration proved that I had become complacent." Your master turned his blank head down to Hailey, signaling for her to continue the report.  


Inhaling a shaky breath, Hailey gathered herself and spoke just loud enough for everyone to hear, "The humans have created a powerful device against Slenderman. It combines the effects of the disruptor with the influence of red light used to cure Polaroid prints. This not only nullifies Slenderman's abilities, but also scrambles them, causing potent damage to him. While The Gentleman and I aren't affected by the device, we're unable to get to it with just the two of us. The houses equipped with the device are also littered with traps." Hailey sighed, seeming relieved that she had made it through her portion of the report.  


Slenderman turned to BEN, "I understand you have new information to share about the humans."  


With a firm nod, BEN kept his eyes lowered to the table and began, "Four days after the website was taken down, there were several attempts to create new, encrypted servers. I was able to remove all of them." He paused for a moment, possibly to sort out his thoughts. "Not long after that, I noticed emails between the forum members trying to inform each other that they were being 'aggressively hunted by the Slenderman'. I deleted any unread emails that I could so the humans couldn't prepare. The emails also came attached with instructions on building the mentioned devices to use against Slenderman; I removed all evidence of these emails from the internet."  


"Good work, BEN," Slenderman flatly stated. "Continue to intercept the emails and shut down any new servers they attempt to create. Your efforts are helping us tremendously. Now then," the tall being leaned forward and spread his hands over the blueprints in front of him, "there are still several locations to snuff out; two of which are the most dangerous. I was able to acquire the building prints so that we may plot our infiltrations."  


It was explained that The Gentleman and Hailey would take care of the locations inhabited by singular or just a small few of people. Those locations were also lightly trapped. The two most dangerous houses were in separate countries. The first, and easiest, of them was located in England. It was a two-story building of fair size, considering the typical housing in that country. There were six known humans gathered there, all of which were forum members who met up to protect each other. The place was heavily rigged with traps; however, due to restricting gun laws, they were less deadly. Slenderman did make note that the humans made up for their lack of weaponry with the use of electricity and home-cooked acids. Neither sounded all too exciting for you.  


The second, and most dangerous, of the houses was located in the United States; Texas, to be more specific. It was another two-story, but larger than the one in England. Your master explained that the majority of the building was protected by gun traps of various sorts. The humans also had their own firearms on hand. There were plenty of other traps to worry about, too, such as nets and hinged floors. "The most difficult obstacle, however, will be their attack dogs," Slenderman noted. "There are two; both of the Pitt Bull breed. Do your best not to get between their jaws." He went on to state that the dogs remained in the house with the humans. While Slenderman wasn't afraid of dogs, he knew that his Proxies were much more vulnerable. As for the number of humans, ten were counted.  


"We will attack the house in England first," Slenderman instructed. "While it _will_ push your limits, this is only a warm-up." He then handed the prints for the first house to your team. Everyone was given the remainder of the day to prepare and go over the prints of the house. The Gentleman and Hailey were offered to rest at the mansion, since they had been so busy for the past week. To this, they accepted, though Hailey hid herself in one of the closets the whole time.  


After the dismissal, you approached Slenderman with concern on your face. This was the first time you were able to see him since helping the Tall One to his room in a crippling state. Now, here he was, perfectly healthy. His wake didn't seem oddly distorted anymore, making you wonder if you were only seeing things at that time. Still, you worried; without your master, what would you do? Where would you go? How would you survive?  


Slenderman watched you inch closer to him, seeming curious of your intentions. You know he could easily read your thoughts, though. The room emptied by this point, and you wanted to blurt out all of your questions at once, but your trained mentality held down your tongue. Instead, you repeated a phrase over and over in your head, "May I speak? May I speak?"  


"Go on," your master encouraged. "Speak, though you should already know the answers."  


Hesitating at your master's words, you eventually began, "You're okay? The damage wasn't permanent?"  


Slenderman shook his head, "I wasn't foolish enough to stay near the device long enough for mortal injuries."  
"You looked so weak," your lip quivered. "I was scared. I was scared that," you choked on the painful lump growing in your throat, "that we'd be killed by the other Creepypastas." You couldn't stop the cracking in your voice, nor the tears that welled up and dripped from your eyes. "It might be rough for me - for Proxies - to be like slaves, but in a way, we're treated well." During the days that Slenderman had disappeared, and the time he spent in his room, your mind had wandered to places you had yet to discover until then. It became apparent to you that Proxies were somewhat catered to. The food was stocked by Slenderman and the other residents, you were given a home and great bed to sleep in, you were allowed to rest when you became injured, your clothes were provided, and you were even protected from the other Creepypastas. In all honesty, a Proxy was more like a pet. Even though you had chores and dangerous missions, the rewards were worth it.  


"Such an obedient Proxy," Slenderman hooked a finger under your chin, lifting it to raise your head. "I've trained you well, if you fear my absence." The snide tone in his voice switched off your tearful lament.  


Offended, you moved your chin from the pale being's fingertip and stepped back. "Is that all you can say?" You knew you were stepping over a fine line, but Slenderman's response didn't satisfy what you had hoped to hear. "You disappear for a few days, then return looking like a wreck and lock yourself in your room without an explanation. Couldn't you-"  


"What, ____, could I say?" Your master's voice growled with irritation. He closed the small distance between the two of you, hunching to keep his lacking face within your eyesight. "Or rather, did you want me to _do_ something? Should I have taken you into my arms? Embraced you tightly?" He was pressuring you for an answer, all the while embarrassing you. "Should I have assured you that everything was as it should be? That I would never leave you?" Slenderman's head hovered inches from your face, his hands had somehow claimed their perch on your shoulders, though you hadn't noticed until this point. "Think of a Proxy as you wish, but you are _still_ a Proxy. My concern for your feelings is minimal."  


At that, he was gone. You were left alone in the briefing room, trying to hold back the powerful mixture of emotions building within. "You ass," your lips formed, though barely a sound escaped.  


In truth, you were developing feelings for your master. What sort of feelings, you were still confused over. Perhaps it was love, but evidence pointed to other things. Maybe it was just hopeful wishing that you were in love. Slenderman was most likely right: you were a Proxy trained to depend on your master. The feelings you thought you had were probably just that. Still, you held on to some sick form of hope that it would change.  


After a few minutes of calming yourself, you left the briefing room to catch up with your team. Luckily, you had your mask to hide any bit of redness on your face.  


Most likely, the other Proxies were in the weapons room, deciding on what all to bring on the mission. There would be plenty of gear to wear, which had you grimacing at the weight it would add up to. Thank goodness for the workout routines.  


You soon entered the weapons room, indeed finding Hoodie, Masky, and Toby making a checklist of the required gear for tomorrow. What you weren't expecting was The Gentleman to be with them. He was giving pointers of what he remembered about the house and its many traps. The way he broke down how the traps worked sounded obnoxious, though. Still, you were caught off guard that he was here at all. It was a strange sight to see a Creepypasta helping a Proxy. Perhaps that's why he had such a namesake.  


Shrugging it off, you joined in with the men and caught up to speed. Toby showed you that, so far, they wanted to wear insulated boots and gloves, have a pair of chemical-resistant gloves on stand-by, wire-cutters, and bullet-proof vests.  


"I thought there weren't any guns allowed there," you queried, recalling England's law.  


"It'll still protect against knives," Hoodie advised. "Everyone's got a kitchen knife handy."  


"Does anyone know if we're supposed to kill all these people or what?" Masky chimed in.  


"Kill them," The Gentleman plainly stated and rolled his eyes. "Slenderman doesn't have a need for their information. Everything was on the forum and their emails. He's just tying up loose ends before Zalgo gets dirt on him." He acted as though it was understood the targets were to be killed.  


"Well, that makes things easy," Toby quipped as he scribbled down 'knives' and 'guns' to the list.  


The five of you spent most of the day studying the blueprint and discussing with The Gentleman about where the humans would gather when feeling threatened. You estimated how much of each piece of gear you would need, depending on the known traps marked on the blueprints. It was best to carry as little as possible, but you didn't want to be caught without a necessary tool. The bullets would weigh you down the most, so everyone agreed to only take a maximum of twelves rounds - two for each target.  


This mission would focus heavily on each Proxy's assigned role. Masky would scout the outside of the house before the team moved. Afterward, you, Toby, and Hoodie would enter the building wherever Masky deemed it best. Hoodie would then focus on finding and disabling the device used against Slenderman. You and Toby would disable any traps along the way of finding the targets. Masky would remain outside of the house, if possible, and snipe from a vantage point.  


Your team went over the plans several times, hypothesizing various scenarios involving the human targets. Most of them went well, but no one would be completely sure until the real mission was over.  


By dinner, Slenderman broadcasted that his team would head out for the mission by 1 AM., to which you headed straight for bed as soon as the kitchen was cleaned. Even if you could only get a couple of hours in, it would be better than trying to carry out the upcoming mission on a weary mind.  


For a time, you had trouble getting your whirring brain to slow down. All that you had gone over for the mission was echoing back with paranoid 'what if' scenarios. So many things could go wrong, but you were going on this mission, no matter the risk.  


You weren't sure when, but eventually your vision blacked out to the realm of sleep and dreams. While you understood the darkness surrounding your mind, it was unclear if you had actually dreamed at all. It wasn't long before you were woken be a feeling of dread in your gut. Your eyes lazily cracked open to the view of your veiled window glowing with moonlight. Though you heard nothing threatening nearby, you couldn't shake off the obscure fear within; that is, until you scanned over the room for further confirmation that you were just being silly.  


At the foot of your bed stood Slenderman. He stared at you intently, though didn't budge at all. If it wasn't for his ghostly pale skin and shirt, you would have never seen his looming figure in the dark. At first, you considered simply going back to sleep, since your master's visits in your room was a common occurrence, but the continued feeling of trepidation gave second thought. Something wasn't right; Slenderman was acting different. Usually, he would have said something or begun to crawl over you and taste your skin. This time, however, he only stared, for lack of a better word, with his nonexistent eyes.  


"M-master?" You dared to break the silence, anticipating an attack at any moment.  


A piercing ring began in one ear, catching your attention. Shortly after, your other ear followed suit. You rubbed both ears, expecting the ringing to end soon, but it only grew louder. With desperate eyes, you looked back up to Slenderman. Was he doing this? Why? Was he still angry about what happened in the briefing room?  


The ringing was deafening now, and your vision grew cloudy. You tried to keep sight on your master, but just as you began to beg him for mercy, your body and mind gave out. As far you could tell, sleep had captured you once again.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission go!

Waking up was a confusing and weary endeavor, to say the least. At first, you had forgotten where you were, what time it might be, or even how you got in your bed. Once your mind cleared to the best it could, the memory of Slenderman's more in-character visit flashed by.  


Why did he do that? Did you irritate him somehow? No, usually he would strangle you if he was mad. This was something different.  


Glancing at your clock, you remembered about the mission for tonight. The digital numbers read 12:30 A.M. in its bold, red glow. The blood drained from your face as you recalled Slenderman specifically saying that the mission would begin at 1 A.M., to which you leapt out of bed, gathered your clothes, and sprinted to the bathroom.  


At first, you found yourself stumbling and nearly falling against the walls and doorways, but managed to keep upright. Something was strange about your body - your mind. They had a weight to them unlike before you had fallen asleep. Did Slenderman do this? Why would he hinder your performance before a mission? You'd have to ask him at the briefing.  


"Now then," your master broke the awkward silence, "what have you listed for the mission?"  


Masky held a notebook in front of him, reading off the list of supplies everyone had agreed would be necessary to successfully survive the mission. "We'll need guns - pistols and a sniper rifle, specifically. Each Proxy should carry a combat knife. For the electrical traps throughout the house, we figured it'd be easiest to wear either rubber or leather gloves. The main power will most likely be protected to prevent being cut. That being said, we should each have a set of wire cutters with rubber-lined handles to break any traps we find along the way. Bullet-proof vests are a default. Twenty feet of rope should be on each person, for various reasons, such as: restraining one of the humans, as per your orders, reaching upper levels of the house, if they so happen to be blocked from below, and making tempoary traps of our own, if the humans prove to be more aggressive than reliant on their own creations. One of us will also carry a seringe of sedative for the captive. Also, due to the extra gear from our usual list, we've agreed to carry two rounds per target. Despite the plan to restrain a captive, we feel it better to prepare for the worst." He concluded there, tilting his head back and lowering the notebook to await a response from Slenderman.  


For a few moments, Slenderman remained quiet. Perhaps he was pondering over any other possibilities that may require more gear. "Well done," he finally spoke. "You may now equip. You have fifteen minutes to return here."  


Hoodie, Masky, and Toby nodded to your master and dashed to the equipment room without another word. You, however, hesitated to leave just yet, gazing up at Slenderman as you tried to ask him what had happened last night. Your words caught in your throat when you made visual contact with his lacking face. There was the energy of a daring glare from the tall being. He didn't want to discuss your concerns at the moment, most likely. So, rather than confronting your master, you turned tail and met up with your teammates for the gear.  


The tension in the air was thick. Everyone's thoughts on the mission were of worry for what the humans would have in store. There was little room for error - if at all. Your teammates exchanged few words, only communicating topics of gear and preparations. The four of you decided on using leather gloves, reasoning that they would provide better dexterity and weigh less than the rubber ones.  


Once everyone had ensured that they were fully equipped, you and your fellow Proxies returned to the foyer, where Slenderman waited. Now, for the briefing.  


"We will begin infiltration through the back side of the house," Slenderman explained how things would start off. "There is a recess in the building, which contains the hall and staircase. From our initiative, there will be a window on the first floor that opens underneath the stairs. This is where you will enter the house, as it provides the most cover from being discovered." He continued to explain that the other houses in the compacted neighborhood would bring higher risk of interruption, but such risk would decrease if your team entered away from the main street.  


Masky was to set up at a vantage point on top of the next row of houses. From there, Slenderman would transport him where needed, since the disruptor's range didn't stretch that far. Hoodie would scout the outside of the house for any main power cables that could be cut. As for Toby and yourself, the aformentioned window would be the main goal.  


"Treat everything as though it is energized," Slenderman warned, "even if Hoodie is successful with cutting the main power."  


Your team was instructed to hold the one captured human in the house until the disrupter has been deenergized. Slenderman closed the briefing with the directive that everyone meet in the staircase hall to avoid being sighted as best as possible.  


All present Proxies nodded in understanding. Their master extended his tendrils from his back and made contact with each Proxy. You found that the slender-walk hadn't been affecting you the same as it did in your first experiences. Your mind seemed to adjust well with the abrupt changes of atmosphere and worldly placement.  


The smell of concrete and potted herbs filled your nostrils. You could hear a small dog barking far in the distance. The low lights of street lamps illuminated the bordering walkways between each row of houses. Shielding you from human eyes were the exterior walls of two houses. Everything in this neighborhood was cramped. There was a chill in the air. You weren't surprised, however, due to it being close to autumn in the human world. At least your gear would keep you warm enough.  


"The target house is directly across from us," Slenderman pointed a long finger across the walkway. From what you'd studied of the blueprints, the indicated building seemed correct. Its gray-blue panels looked somber in the nighttime light. "You are clear to assume your positions." Your master paused a moment, soon mumbling a hesitant, "Good luck." You weren't sure if you appreciated the honest concern or were intimidated by what could get Slenderman so doubtful of his own Proxies' success.  


At first, you followed Toby and Hoodie across the walkway. Once the three of you reached some cover, Hoodie split away to find the main power cords located outside of the house. Toby lead you to the depression in the house's design, hiding in the given shadows. The two of you began working on getting the window open. There was no point in waiting on Hoodie if your orders were to treat all electrical traps as though they were hot.  


Slipping on the thick, leather gloves, you and Toby began searching for wires lining the window. Each one found, you traced to a source if possible, and clipped them with the wire cutters. Though you weren't all that educated about electrical wires and such, Toby seemed to understand the severity of the wires being used.  


"Damn," Toby inspected the recently clipped wire in his hand. "They're really trying to kill us." The long, metal piece was half as thick as a pencil. Most wires you had seen were fairly thin for tiny electronics, or the huge ones that hung from power lines.  


After finding no further wires on the outside of the window, Toby took out a crowbar and pried the window up. It wasn't locked, though, as if the people inside wanted you to come in. This wasn't so much of a surprise, of course, since the wires were there - and capable of killing any unsuspecting victim. Again, you felt around the inside window sill for any wires lining it. There were some, in fact, which you cut and removed. Toby climbed in first, having already put away his tools. You followed shortly after him.  


The house was dark, as you usually found them on missions. Thankfully, you had attuned to Slenderman's passive effects on his Proxies by this point, thus gaining the advantageous night vision. It wasn't what your were expecting, however; rather than a spectrum of greens or black and white, you found that night vision, for a Proxy, was a dull sight. Sure, there were colors, but they had been brought down to gloomy shades compared to what you saw in broad light. It was better than stumbling around in the dark, though.  


You didn't hear any noise from the rooms beyond. Most likely, the targeted humans were sleeping. There must have been one who stayed awake as a look-out. These people knew they were being hunted. To let their guard down would be foolish on their part.  


From your crouched positions underneath the narrow staircase, you and Toby could see the hall that lead to the front door. Directly across from you was a room that, according to the blueprints and the notes provided by Hailey and The Gentleman, was a guest room. At this point, the target humans didn't sleep in that room during the night. They gathered together in two of the bedrooms upstairs, separating into groups of three.  


Still, it was best to clear all possible areas in the house, so not to get attacked from behind. Toby took the guest room. You moved further down the hall to the next room over, which was a mixture of a computer and storage room.  


The steady hum of the computer towers entered your ears as soon as you nudged the door open with a leather-gloved hand. Since the knobs were made of metal, they could have been rigged with more electrical traps, so it was best to take precaution. You were right, of course. Once you opened the door, you saw the tail end of a bare wire slip from some sort of makeshift connector. It was made to energize the wire while the door was shut, but disconnect if the door was successfully opened. You peered inside, keeping what you could of your body from the doorway until the coast was clear. When you saw no further traps, you slowly opened the door wider and removed the wire from the knob. Upon further inspection of the trap, you saw that a car battery was attached to the connector on the floor. You really didn't want to mess with that.  


Rather than disabling the rest of the trap, you began walking around the room as your eyes scanned over the heaps of electronic devices. Such a sight was a common occurance on these missions. You had learned that the scavenged parts were used to make the disrupters to nullify Slenderman's effects on the humans. For such a small device, it took a lot of parts; or maybe it was difficult to find just the right one with such old equipment.  


Your eyes eventually landed on the window opposite from the door. After a quick search, you found that the sill was lined with wire. Said wire ran down the wall, right into a nearby outlet.  


Before you could clip the wire, a strange crackling noise came from the computers. It sounded as though one of them was heavily processing something. All you saw on the monitors were typical, default screensavers. Hopefully, it was nothing to be concerned about.  


From upstairs, the soft sounds of movement came to life. The sinking feeling in your gut had you looking to the doorway, to which you saw Toby checking in on you. His head was lowering from looking up toward the sounds he had heard, too. He raised an index finger to his covered mouth, signaling for you to stay quiet. His hand then lowered the finger to the floor, while his other hand gesture for you to come to him. Toby wanted you to crawl back across the room.  


You narrowed your eyes at the young man for a moment, but knew that he meant well. Lowering your body to the floor, you belly-crawled to him, hoping that you were low enough. Once your reached Toby, he pulled you from the room and helped you up. "T-they used the webc-cams on the monitors. Someone's wat-tching from upstairs," your teammate whispered. Your heart dropped, paling your face. You had already been seen.  


The shuffling from upstairs stopped. Things went quiet again. "They're probably all upstairs," you said. "Should we bother checking the rest of this area?" It seemed like a waste of time to search for people who weren't there. You both knew where the targets were.  


Before Toby could answer, the monitors' glow dropped to darkness. The humming of live electronics was silenced. The air became thick. Your eyes locked with Toby's, both knowing that Hoodie was successful with cutting the main power. He would be locating the disruptor next, so there was no point in waiting to regroup with him. You and Toby began to ascend the stairs. Toby went first.  


Though his steps seemed light, Toby's leg sunk right down into the second step as if he had stomped on a suspended sheet of paper. Toby's body lurched forward with momentum, landing on his hands to hold up his body.  


At first, you weren't sure what happened. All you knew was that Toby's leg had sunken down nearly to his knee. Did he break it? With his inability to feel pain, it was hard to tell if he was injured at all. You hurried to his aid, hearing shuffling from above again. No doubt, they heard the step break. As you grabbed your teammate's arm in an effort to help him rise out of the broken step, he tried to pull his leg, only to find that he was stuck. You tried not to ask him questions, knowing that the humans upstairs would hear your conversation. Instead, you reached your arm down into the hole and felt down Toby's leg, searching for the problem. When you're fingers were pricked by sharp objects, you realized what was going on: Toby's foot had been pierced through by long nails. They had managed to drive through the sole of his boot. These people must have sharpened the nails beyond their original shape.  


"We got you," exclaimed a voice from the top of the stairs. You and Toby raised your heads to see a middle-aged man standing there with a body-camera strapped to his torso. From behind him was the mild glow of street lights breaking through the window. His stance and expression showed that he was wildly excited that the trap was a success.  


You backed off of Toby, ready to defend against the human, if need be. With your eyes trained to the man upstairs, you watched him pull out a pistol from his back pocket. His wide eyes hinted at the madness in his mind. You reached for the pistol in your jacket, heart pounding with building panic. These guys weren't supposed to have guns! How did he get ahold of one?  


Before the man could shoot, he broke into a fit of coughs. His hunched form looked ragged and weak. Toby looked back at you, encouraging you to take the shot before the man recovered. You aimed your gun, knowing that once you shot, it would be a chaotic war of cat and mouse with the rest of the humans.  


You squeezed the trigger, but it sounded off sooner than it should have, making your flinch at the surprise. Something warm and wet splattered over you and Toby.  


Glass had shattered from behind the man. His body sank down to the landing of the stairs, then rolled down the steps where Toby caught him. There was a gaping hole in the human's torso now. His body camera had survived, but one of the straps were broken. Life faded from his eyes as he choked on his own blood.  


You lowered your gun, realizing that Masky had taken the guy out. In a way, you were relieved, but now things would be much more difficult.  


After a couple of unsuccessful tugs, Toby managed to pull his foot and boot free of the nails. He was bleeding so heavily that it was hard to tell how many holes he now had. Despite Toby's inability to feel pain, you winced at the thought of suffering the injury yourself. Such thoughts were rudely interrupted when your senses registered to the busy noises upstairs. They knew you and your team were here. They knew their ally had been killed. What they were doing now, you hoped was anything but tactical preparation.  


Toby glanced at you as he tucked his looted pistol into his pants and grabbed one of the hatchets on his hips. You gave him a nod to ensure that you were ready as you'll ever be. With that, the two of you carefully ascended the stairs. You holstered your pistol back into your jacket. Right now, your nerves were a little strung up, so the last thing you needed in hand was a gun.  


The third-to-top step was revealed to also be a trap like its bottom counterpart. It seemed partially damaged, most likely from the now-deceased human when his corpose tumbled down. You and Toby pressed your backs on either wall of the staircase, peering across to see if anyone was around the corner. So far, it seemed clear. The movement in the other rooms had stopped. It was best to assume that the humans were now avoiding windows, if they saw what happened to their friend.  


The house's air returned to its original silence. You strained to hear any nearby breathing from around the corner, but found nothing. You and Toby nodded to each other again, signalling that each other's corner looked clear of waiting threats. Toby clutched his hatchets, you slipped a long knife from your jacket. The two of you ducked around your respective walls, ready for a surprise ambush.  


When you rounded your corner, knife brandished in front of you, there was only an empty hall to right. Directly across from you was a door. Further down were two other doors. All three were closed. With a roll of your eyes, you dreaded the tedious procedure of having to check each door for traps, then opening them to inspect the rooms for humans. It didn't help your nerves knowing that the targets were aware of your presence now.  


Still, it needed to be done, so you urged on. There was a time limit at this point. No doubt, the neighbors heard Masky's rifle and the yelling from the man that was now dead. Logic only added that up to the police being called - especially since they heard gunfire in a country that illegalized firearms.  


The first door was the same situation as the computer room downstairs. Upon opening it with your leather glove, you found a similar contraption to energize the knob while the door was closed. You disabled it and continued into the room, making sure there weren't other computers set up - not that they would have power to record you this time.  


To your right was a bed. To your left, the room went deeper, containing a closet and dresser. There were clothes, books, and electronics scattered around. Dufflebags were tucked under the bed. At a glance, there seemed to be no one around. There were still possible hiding spots, so you crept further in, shutting the door behind you.  


Since the bed was closest, you checked the other side of it for any human using it for cover.  


No one. Just more clutter.  


You moved to the closet, careful not to trip or stumble on the various objects askewed on the floor. First, you gently pressed your ear against the closet door and tried to listen for breathing. After a few seconds of dead silence, you gave in and cracked open the thin door. Nothing stirred, so you opened it completely, only to find more clothes and belongings. There was room for a person to hide in the small space, but not enough to take cover behind the other objects. With a satisfied mind, you moved on. If there were humans on your side of the house, then they were either holed up on the bathroom or the bedroom at the end of the hall.  


You moved to the bathroom, leaving your previously inspected room slightly ajar. Again, the door was trapped with an energized knob. You were certain, by this point, that all doors in the house were rigged this way. As for the presence of humans in the small room, you found none. There was also no window for them to escape, much less worry about someone getting into the house with.  


The last room was where everything hit the fan.  


Your first mistake was when you neglected to avoid the doorway as you turned the knob. Instead, you remained right in front of it, opened the door about an inch, and your ears began to ring. Your right leg felt a kick into your shin and something explode from your calf. Your brain was set on fire from the pain of shattered bones and flesh. Somehow, that was the only bullet that landed on you, but it was all you needed to begin your rampage.  


At the time, you didn't even realize what was going on. All you could do was act on instinct. Any sense of pain disappeared, replaced by unbridled rage.  


There were two humans firing six-shot revolvers at you, but the bullets were quickly wasted. They were obviously unskilled with guns, having only managed to hit you once. As for a chance to reload and try again, they never had one.  


You watched from within yourself as you wielded a knife in each hand and charged the two humans ducked behind the bed. Their screams were muffled by the lingering deafness caused by the volley of gunshots from earlier. The terror in their eyes was evident, prying them open wide and crazed. You fell onto the bed after a failed attempt to jump over it, due to your mangled leg. That didn't stop you, though. Your sights held firm on your targets, pulling you to them as you visciously clawed and crawled across the bed to get closer.  


The humans backed away, shaking violently as they tried to reload their guns. All they managed to do was make a mess of scattered bullets all over the floor.  


Rolling from the bed as you reached the other side, you used the functioning upper part of your busted leg to help lift yourself up. Your good leg did the rest as you lunged to one of the humans. The both of you crashed into the wall, where you repeatedly stabbed and shredded their chest. You felt a pressure in your throat, barely recognizing the sounds coming from it as you screamed with fury. The other human had fallen back on the floor as they had dodged you. Their still muffled screams and sobs slowly increased as your hearing began to recover.  


Wailing sirens filled the air from outside, but they didn't concern you. The human, shakily aiming their unloaded gun at you, however, was much more interesting. You pulled your knives from the mangled corpse and dove right on top of your new victim. They tried to scramble away, realizing that thier empty threat was useless, but it was much too late.  


Somewhere in the midst of your relentless slaughter, you lost consciousness.

* * *

You dreamed of a vile beast staring at you from within a deep darkness. It was some sort of wolf; covered in silver scales and a thin layer of black fur. Protruding from its mouth was a pair of large fangs, dripping with a fluid that produced a strong, acidic stench. The strange wolf growled as it held its gaze on you. It was warning you of something, laced with jealousy.  


Then, as if it melted into the depths of the abysmal dark, the scaled wolf backed away and disappeared, never breaking eye contact.

* * *

The first several seconds of waking up were the most confusing. At first, you thought you had missed the mission altogether. Then, you remembered going to the mission and when Toby had gotten his foot stuck in the staircase. Did you get electrocuted by one of the doors?  


No. You had gotten shot. The slowly growing pain in your right leg was a quick reminder. After that, you had blacked out, right?  


Bits and pieces of your onslaught flashed by. You weren't yourself then. It was that thing you did when you would black out. This time, you held consciousness for at least a short while. You were a monster.  


After gathering your thoughts, you examined your physical self, expecting to still be covered in blood. Instead, you were tucked away in bed, clean and changed into fresh, lounge clothes. Your cheeks glowed with a warm blush at the thought of one of the male figures within the mansion stripping and bathing your unconscious body. Hopefully, that's all they did.  


You pulled off the silk covers to see the damage of your leg. There was a thick boot reaching over your knee. It was lined with metal braces and black coushioning. It looked like one of those medical, brace boots people walked around in after lightly breaking a leg, but from what you remembered, there was no way you were going to walk on this leg for at least a couple of weeks.  


"You will need to remove the boot once a day to air out the wounds," came your master's smooth voice. You whipped your head up to see him standing at the foot of your bed. He continued, "Toby is in a similar situation with his foot. Despite his inability to experience physical pain, his risk of reopening the puncture wounds is too great." Slenderman sounded disappointed with the situation.  


"So, I'm-" you tried to speak, but your weak throat choked on its irritated lining. You coughed, confused. Maybe it was all the screaming you did while going crazy on the humans.  


"Yes," Slenderman answered your intended question. "You are bedridden until further notice. I highly suggest not trying to walk." To this, you groaned in disapproval. It was going to be so boring with just you and that stupid dictionary in your room.  


Then it came to you all of a sudden, wondering about the mission and its success. Hopefully, your master was still listening in on your thoughts.  


He was, of course. "The mission was a success. Hoodie found and disabled the upgraded disruptor in time for me gather all of you and transport back here. We even acquired the human captive, as planned. I must admit, we nearly returned empty-handed, as you were seconds away from ripping the human to shreds."  


But you remembered only two humans. Both of them were stabbed and cut and disembowled by you. Did you find another one?  


"The last human was hiding in the nearby closet," Slenderman commented. "Though it was locked, you had easily ripped the door from its hinges." There was a hint of lust growing in his voice now. "When I had arrived to gather you, there was blood strewn throughout the room." His tall form bent over you, crawling across the bed to bring his lacking face closer to your own. "What a butcher you were; an _animal_."  


These days, Slenderman's odd behavior was normal. He never pushed past simple touching, licking, and smelling, thankfully. It seemed as though he was holding back, but you didn't urge him on for fear of what he had in mind.  


Admittedly, you were beginning to enjoy these moments. You felt covetable, attractive. At least in some way, he was returning the feelings you were growing for him. Still, it was hard to tell if they were real, or a mental illness. Considering the world you now lived it, did it really matter?  


Slenderman took one of your hands into his, bringing it closer to his hidden face. His mouth split open for that wet, black tongue to run along the tips of your fingers. He relished in the lingering taste of blood from under your nails. A pleased growl bellowed from his throat.  


Then you remembered the dream. The wolf that stared at you with jealous eyes.  


Forgetting your lack of a voice, you cracked out the question, "Why did you call me an animal?" Pieces of a mysterious puzzle wedged into place.  


Immediately, Slenderman paused his lustful actions. He hesitated for a short moment, then disappeared without an explanation. You were left with many questions, though one was begging to be answered first: What was Slenderman hiding from you?


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery.  
> Discovery.  
> Preparations.  
> Mission: Start.

The next few days were quiet. Slenderman avoided you when possible, though he would pop in - unannounced, of course - on occasion to inspect your leg for any malformations. He wouldn't say a word to you, no matter how much you poked and prodded his mind. Other times, you fretted about your garden during each waking moment that your pain medication began to wear off, knowing that it was probably drying up in some slow and agonizing way. There were the rare moments that you left your bed, typically because you needed to relieve your stretching bladder. Luckily, you only drank water went you ate and medicated, so the frequency was low. Even better, the first time you woke with a need to pee, you discovered a wheelchair neatly parked at your bedside. No matter how cruel Slenderman could be at times, his softer side shone brightly when his Proxies were injured.  


There was one unfortunate accident that you had suffered, though it caused no physical injury - just your pride. You had awoken to a full bladder, groggily climbing from your bed to the wheelchair, and somehow rolled your heavily drugged self to the bathroom. After nearly falling off of the porcelain pot and wiggling off your bottoms, you noticed a mess of blood soaked through the crotch of your underwear and shorts. It only made sense that you didn't feel the cramps, considering the morphine flowing through your veins almost all the time. You tilted your head back, subconsciously asking a higher being why you had to go through this misery.  


After finishing up in the bathroom, you ended with taking your bottoms completely off, grabbing a pad, and wrapping a towel around your lower torso for the trip back. During your time pushing the wheelchair down the hall, you recalled the first time you had started your menstrual cycle.  


There were no pads or tampons to be found in the mansion. You should have known, of course, seeing as there had been sausage fest preceding your time here. For a few hours, you convinced yourself that you could just fold up a wad of toilet paper and cradle it in your panties, but that proved futile, as all the movement your team performed during exercises moved the bundle of tissue out of place. Eventually, to your despair, you were forced to request feminine products from your master.

* * *

_In your absolute embarrassment, you searched for Slenderman, rather than mentally calling to him. You eventually found him sipping tea in the back patio. He seemed content enough, and you had a legitimate situation that needed dealing with.  
_

_Timidly, you approached the relaxed being, who greeted you with, “Ah, ____. What brings you to me this time?" His mouth was split only enough to intake the warm liquids in his tiny cup.  
_

__

_“I, uh,” you struggled to spit out the words, a deep blush radiating from your face. "I can't find the," your tongue froze for a second, "the feminine..." Almost successful, you trailed off into a barely audible mumble.  
_

__

_Slenderman only held his invisible gaze on you, waiting for whatever you were trying to communicate to him. It was at that moment, while studying his lacking face, that you detected an amused air about him. You remembered that he could read your mind with minimal effort, which shifted your heated face of embarrassment to simmering anger.  
_

__

_"You know what I need!" The outburst surprised even you, knowing darn well what could happen for speaking to your master this way. "Please. I need some now." Your voice had dramatically reduced to a timid and pleading tone.  
_

__

_Without answering, the stark white being finished off his cup of aromatic tea, pushed it and the matching dish set aside on the patio table, then stood. His towering form reminded you of just how small you were in comparison to him. You almost didn't notice his sudden disappearance right before your eyes. The lingering image of your master faded away as you came to your senses. It was the first time you witnessed him slender-walk without you. Nonetheless, the effect was disorienting in its own way.  
_

__

_You were hesitant for a moment; unsure if you should wait for the Slenderman to return or go about your day until he happened upon you with eerie stealth. Hell, it wouldn't surprise you if your master just put the feminine products in your bathroom and neglected to tell you. His teasing was rare, but steadily increasing. None of it was pleasant on your end.  
_

__

_In the end, Slenderman returned with a shopping bag full of various pads and tampons before you could leave the patio. He mentioned not bothering to get medication for you cramps because, "You need to grow accustomed to it in preparation for possible circumstances." Basically, he meant that there might be times you wouldn't have access to cramp medicine, so deal with it. This only drew out a snort as you mentally commented how impressed you were that he didn't make you deal with the bleeding, too. Whether he chose to ignore such thoughts or wasn't reading your mind at the moment, you probably would never know._

* * *

You parked the wheelchair as close to the edge of your bed as possible, then hoisted yourself back into the softness of its wake. With the sensation of needing to urinate no longer present, you soon found yourself scrunching your face as the menstrual cramps gradually worsening. There was no way you would ever get used to it. Not only that, but your leg was beginning to hurt, as well. A glance at the nightstand told of your all-too-soon agony that was quickly closing in.  


Trying to distract yourself from the ever-growing aches, you began wondering how dried up the garden has become. If _someone_ wasn't regularly watering it, then you would have to start over - not that you knew if your efforts were fruitful at all. So far, the only thing surviving was the possible potato plant. Maybe, if you were lucky, Slenderman was being kind and tending the garden for you. Such a hopeful thought had you snort in spiteful amusement; there was no way Slenderman would let you skip a hard-learned lesson about whatever he wanted you to understand.  


Just as you let out a groan in accordance to the surging pain in your body, the bedroom door silently swung open. Laughing Jack strolled through, grinning with equally bright eyes. In his hands was a tray of food, drink, and sweet, sweet drugs. You had never felt so excited to receive medicine until this moment.  


"Hungry, kiddo?" Laughing Jack set the silver tray of goods on the night stand. "It's lunch time."  


Eagerly, you sat up, eyes scanning over the tray's contents with anticipation. "The pain's coming back," you didn't want to tell him about your cramps, "and I could go for something to eat." At that moment, you felt your stomach growl, though the noise never reached anyone's ears.  


As usual, there was a pitcher of water and a glass. On two small saucers were neatly made sandwich pieces - cut into triangles and trimmed of the crust - with light layers of meat, cheese, and typical vegetables. A large orange was accompanied by a bowl of grapes. Your favorite dish, however, was the small paper cup of two large pills - narcotics and antibiotics. You had to admit, whoever was providing the quality food was being incredibly generous. Usually, everyone would fight for aging cereal or whatever was left in the kitchen. A sneaking suspicion that Slenderman was behind the balanced diet tickled your mind. The mission's success must have pleased him well.  


"Did you hear the good news?" Jack poured you a glass of water as you took the cup of pills and tossed them back into your mouth. "My gumball sprouted!"  


You nearly choked, thoughts of how the piece of candy sprouted a plant, of all things.  


Jack continued spilling the details, "It's just a tiny little sprout, but it's bright-bright green! I can't wait until it matures enough to make more gumballs!" He shook with excitement, giggling delightfully, then handed you the glass of water.  


Doing your best to hide your confusion, you drank down the pills and caught your breath before asking, "If it sprouted, then the garden is getting watered, right?"  


Nodding as he crumpled up the paper cup in his huge, black hand, Jack explained, "I saw Mask and Hoodie out there when I tried to check on my precious candy. They've been dutifully watering your seeds morning and evening." He smiled, looking around your room for unknown reasons, "I noticed that your seeds have grown more, too. Not all of them made it, but you should have one of each plant, if all goes well."  


You couldn't help but join in with the happy vibes, a smile curling on your lips as you watched the monochrome clown cross your room to the door. "That's great. I can't wait to get back out there to see it."  


“I just hope one of your seeds didn't take the place of my gumball," Laughing Jack passively warned, a growl hinting in his voice, before closing the bedroom door behind him. Your heart sank, knowing that the statement was all too possible.  


Though you were no longer hungry due to your new anxiety, you reasoned that you still needed to eat something with the medication or suffer puking in the near future. So, you forced down what you could, finding the sandwich pieces incredibly tasty. All the while, the wonderment of how the hell Jack's gumball could have sprouted churned the gears in your head, running them in fifth gear.

Another few days passed by in a blur. At one point, you cracked open your eyes to the sound of rumbling and a flash of white light. For the first time during your life in the Creepypasta realm, you witnessed a thunderstorm. The last thing you thought as your mind faded back to sleep was the rhetorical thankfulness that the garden wouldn't need to be watered for a couple days.  


If Slenderman ever made his usual nightly visits, you weren't awoken by them. As far as your drugged up consciousness knew, he was still ignoring you, save for the occasional check-up on your busted leg. His generous choice of meals for you - and hopefully Toby - were enough to know that he wasn't angry for one reason or another.  


The second week of your bedridden pseudo-coma marked the changes to your healing process. After some careful inspection to your leg, along with primitive, yet effective, testing of the sense of feeling in your foot, Slenderman determined that you would only need to be put on mild pain relievers. You were even given permission to wander the current floor of the mansion until a short few more days had passed. "You should begin your physical therapy, but remember to keep things to a minimum," he told you. That meant no advanced movements; just walking or pushing the wheelchair around.  


At least you'd be able to get out of your room for longer than a bathroom run. It'd be nice to have a thorough bath, too. The one you had been taking were quick and lacked any shaving. The itch under your arms and along your legs would have driven you insane if you hadn't been asleep this whole time.  


And that was the first thing you did - have a nice, long shower. You washed your hair with the best-smelling shampoo and conditioner set, you scrubbed yourself down with the most luxurious soap you could find, and you shaved every important inch of your body with the silkiest lather. Upon reaching the new, grotesque scar on your leg, you paused.   


The dark patch of lumpy flesh told a story that, if you hadn't been conscious when it happened, you wouldn't believe. The deeper your dove into the life of a Proxy, the crazier things seemed to get. You shouldn't be surprised, but you were certainly concerned. Just how much more wild would your new life become?  


Carefully, you ran the razor over your healing leg. There may not have been many hairs growing out of the scar yet, but you felt better to do it, anyway.  


After your much-needed shower, you took advantage of Slenderman's permission to walk the halls. With the medical boot on for extra support, you limped along and welcomed to new scenery. The thumping of your single boot was all that entered your ears.  


Sunlight filtered through windows that lined a new hall you turned down. As you approached the uncovered panes, you were surprised to see that they looked out over the garden. Your gazing orbs widened with amazement at the site you beheld.  


Standing in the rows of your precious garden were several luster-green plants, still short of producing buds. Whatever happened during those two weeks of your drugged state, it certainly worked well for the plants. One individual stood out from the rest of your precious vegetable factories: the possible gumball tree. It was still green, but already a couple feet tall with a few, equally green, branches spread out. On account that this was supposed to be a candy-bearing tree, you figured it would be useless to do any research on identifying the leaves; however, you were still confined to the mansion's interior - and the second floor, for that matter - with little ways to entertain yourself.  


You didn't want to upset Laughing Jack by trying to prove that his gumball tree wasn't legitimate, so you flooded your mind with the request for encyclopedias on identifying trees and leaves, knowing that Slenderman would hear your thoughts. The words and images in your head swirled around, echoing until they were almost incomprehensible, even to yourself. Then, it all happened in one swift motion: your surroundings changed to your bedroom, a large hand on your chest forcefully pushed you back onto your bed, legs dangling from the edge, and a stack of thick books were shoved atop your frame. Above you was none other than Slenderman, his pale head defined by the deep scowl knitted into his brow.  


“Never do that again," he warned. As soon as you fearfully nodded to his command, the tall being straightened up and slender-walked from sight.  


A breath you didn't realize you had been holding released from your lungs in relief. At least you had the books, now. Their stout pile rose and fell with your chest. From the looks of them, you would be able to waste a fair amount of time searching for the answer to at least one of your many questions about this world.  


Unfortunately, for you, identifying an unknown tree when it was supposed to be a fictional candy tree wasn't going to be easy - not when you were searching through a book based on reality. The skills to navigate the encyclopedias were foreign to you, but not unbeknownst. It took time - long and boring - to figure out what the books offered to guide you in the right direction.

Roughly two days later, you settled on the ironic discovery that Laughing Jack's tree was indeed referred to as a "gumball" tree; however, the gumballs produced were neither sweet nor pleasant to eat. Someone was playing a joke on the poor clown. You had your suspicion that either BEN or Jeff were responsible - they seemed the most likely to do something like this. Now, the difficult part was how you were going to explain this to Jack without catching his embarrassed fury. You eventually settled on letting the tree grow and have Laughing Jack see things for himself.  


As for the rest of your week, you did your best on catching up with exercises and read into what to do once your garden had matured. Slenderman continued to check in on your leg, ensuring that the bones had fused together properly. He informed you that if they didn't heal correctly, he would have to break them again - at least the ones that weren't right. "Or," his voice hinted a malicious grin, "I could amputate your inferior limb and replace it with an advanced prosthetic."  


While the idea of being some sort of powerful cyborg was, at least a little, exciting, you preferred to keep your real leg.  


You healed fine, of course. The first thing you did when your master released you from restricted access was head down to the garden and inspect things close up. Your teammates did an outstanding job with keeping everything up. Each leaf was pristine and emerald green. How they were able to keep the bugs away was a mystery. As far as you knew, there was no pesticide used. The excitement of having fresh vegetables to eat filled your chest. It wouldn't be too much longer, if things kept going this well.  


"____," Hoodie's voice startled you from your thoughts. "We don't have time to screw around. Slender wants us to get moving again, then we're back to missions." He didn't wait for you to respond, walking away to the usual training grounds behind the mansion.  


Concerns for you leg whirled within your head, but you chased after Hoodie. Sure, Slenderman said that it was completely healed, but it you hadn't tested it out yet. Should you really be getting back to missions so soon? And what have Toby? Were his feet doing as well?  


Your questions were answered when you and Hoodie rounded the corner, looking on to the obstacle course further out. Masky and Toby were already stretching; Slenderman, surprisingly, was spectating nearby. A light blush swept over your cheeks, soon fading away as you refocused on the physical therapy you would have to overcome in a short time. While your scarred leg no longer ached, it did feel weak; the muscle tissue mostly likely required rebuilding and strengthening. You dreaded the soreness that was soon to come.  


Stretching lead to basic exercises, which lead to running, which lead to completing the obstacle course. The entire time, Slenderman remained near, observing his Proxies with careful thought. Considering the injuries from the last mission, he was probably ensuring that everyone was capable of functioning for the final house on his agenda. Your master's concerns formed an uneasiness within you, knowing that things could turn out worse than last time.  


After watching your entire session of physical strain, Slenderman made his decision for what was to come, “I will wait three more days before initiating out next mission. Continue strengthening yourselves. In your time of rest, study the blueprints I have provided in the briefing room. I expect a full report.” The four of you nodded in understanding before breaking for water and to inspect the mentioned blueprints.  


A new print was included with the house's sheets. This one detailed the property's immediate surroundings and what it contained. There were noted markings of buildings that had been added to the land after some time. These such buildings ranged from a barn to storage sheds.  


As for traps and such, the interior prints were littered with various notes of what Hailey and The Gentleman reported to Slenderman. The knowledge that these humans were guaranteed to have a stock of guns and ammo didn't help with your nerves one bit. If the previous house resulted in what happened to your leg, then who knew how torn up you would be after this mission. Would you even make it out alive?  


You had to. You weren't sure why, but you felt the need to stay alive, even if it meant continuing to live in fear with these monsters and psychopaths.  


After careful discussion between the members of your Proxy team, a list was made of the necessary equipment. Most of it was the same. Masky would be unable to snipe during this mission, considering how large the house would be, along with limiting options for perches. Instead, Masky would function as a scout, going ahead of the team and noting traps to be disabled. Hoodie would continue his usual task of searching for and acquiring the disruptor used against Slenderman. As for you and Toby, you would wait for the targets to wander down the wrong hall, then take them out quietly, like an owl in the night. This would be your task for the first of the mission. As long as it went smoothly, it wouldn't change; the back-up plan was to simply seek and kill the humans if things got out of hand. Whether or not one human was left alive was optional. The mission was too risky to focus on capturing someone.  


The three days of plotting was surely enough preparation, right? The anxiety rushing through your veins suggested otherwise, but there you were, standing with your teammates in the mansion foyer as the report was made. Your leg was completely healed by this point. It's scar had now faded to shallow valleys only a few shades darker than your healthier skin. The time for your final mission against the forum member humans was now.  


As soon as Hoodie completed the report, Slenderman accepted it and ordered the team to gather the suggested items. Everyone geared into bullet-proof vests and leg padding. Guns, knives, rope, sedatives, and plenty of extra ammo were stuffed and secured onto each person in the room. Everything was double-checked that it was properly functioning and attached to the carrier.  


“This is it, guys,” Masky mumbled, startling everyone from their focus on preparations. “This is the big one. We've never had a mission this difficult before.”  


“Yeah,” Hoodie clenched his fists, stretching the leather fabric over his knuckles as it groaned out. “We've only had to deal with one or two humans at a time. A dog here and there, sure, but still.”  


Even Toby had a nervous air about him, “W-we've been t-training,” he gulped, “training hard. The p-past few – past few missions have us use t-t-to the procedures and ir – irregularities.” The stuttering and twitching mess of a young man gripped the hilts of his hatches. “We got this.”  


Everyone nodded. You weren't sure what else to say. It had all be expressed prior to your turn. Instead, you remained silent, trading eye contact with each of your teammates as you gave each other firm nods.  


Without another word, the four of you returned to the foyer and met back with your awaiting master. Despite his contained posture, you were certain he was somewhat, if not equally, as on edge as his anxious Proxies. The dark tendrils slithered from Slenderman's back, making contact with each Proxy. The world around you changed to an outdoor scenery next to a massive, metal barn. Away from your cover was the open range of dry, rolling hills kissed by the moonlight. The occasional shadow of a tree dotted the land. Hidden by the barn was the house of your targets. It would be a fair distance of a run, but there wasn't much anyone could do for cover out here, especially with the disruptor preventing Slenderman from transporting any closer.  


“The disruptor only reaches through half of the barn,” Slenderman explained. “Masky will begin scouting ahead with Hoodie. Toby and ____, make a quick pass through the barn to prevent an ambush. I will remain within the wake of the barn if there is a need to retreat before the mission is completed.” Masky and Hoodie took off in swift silence. You watched as they smoothly traversed the grassy terrain and stuck with the shadows when possible.  


Toby gave a firm pat on your shoulder before turning to huge, metal, livestock gate of the barn. You could see through the pipe-like design that the other end of the building had the same style of entrance, along with a view of the house beyond. Only a handful of dim lights were left on for the barn; perhaps for the animals? You didn't need them, though they helped all the same. Your low-light vision worked fantastically in the moonlight, detailing even the individual straws of hay scattered over the dirt floor. The thick musk of the barn's livestock and hay filled your nostrils. It was almost overpowering, but not unpleasant. From within the wooden and metal stalls that were locked tight, you heard horses shift and snort.  


You and Toby rolled under the large main gate, having just enough room to squeeze in. There was no way you would get the huge chain and lock open in a short time – not for a simple sweep of the building. Quickly, the two of you began creeping down the main isle of the barn, steadily inching closer toward the house. The horses seemed agitated; their breath quickened as they snorted and dug their hooves into the ground. There was always something about animals that let them know when evil was present.  


One horse whinnied next to you, making your blood run cold. You shivered at the thought that the humans had heard it from so far away, but quickly regained your composure and backed away from the distressed animal. Your eyes scanned through the solemn light, searching for a human shape that may be hiding in any corner. So far, the bar housed exactly as it typically would – animals.  


To one corner of the barn, next to the other gate, was an enclosed room – door and all – that could easily hide a startled human. You motioned for Toby to help you check it out, seeing that there was a small window to peek through. Toby checked the door handle while you peered inside, find that it was a feed storage room. Buckets and bags of various farm grains were stacked neatly in the area. Another wall numerous sets of riding equipment for the horses. You heard the door knob rattle, signifying that it was locked. Toby looked at you, searching for a reason to break into the room. You shook your head, not seeing anyone cowering inside.  


Shrugging his shoulders, Toby waved for you to come along as the two of you completed the survey of the barn's interior. It was time to catch up to Hoodie and Masky. The two of you rolled under the gate again, hearing the chain rattle a bit when one of you bumped the metal bar. It was fine, though. Nothing had signaled your presence yet. These were just minor distractions to keep you on your toes.  


That's what you told yourself, anyway.  


With a quick motion of his hands, Toby gestured for the two of you to split up. There were plenty of ways to get to the house under the cover of shadows, so you weren't worried. Splitting up was part of the plan, too. More ground would be covered, along with the ability to sneak up on any wanderers throughout the house. Sure, overpowering someone wouldn't be as easy, but stealth was key at this point of the mission. After giving a single, firm nod to Toby, the two of your split off to flank the house. The grass whispered under your footsteps. The smell of the cool, night air refreshed your senses from the strong odor of the barn. Your heard the gentle wind brush past your ears as you rushed from cover to cover. The slow chirping of crickets echoed in the distance. Now that the easy part was done, you were no less rattled over what was to come.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission starts.  
> Things go bad.  
> Things get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created some drawings for the house layout and all possible traps and barricades (some haven't been mentioned or used in the story). So, here's the links to them, if you're interested. :D  
> http://fav.me/dbuptf8  
> http://fav.me/dbuu55b  
> http://fav.me/dbuu794

The north side of the house - the front door - was your designated point of infiltration. There were more places for you to stop and hide between there and the barn, too. Toby had a fair distance of 200 yards before his first hiding spot, which was a huge oak tree with plenty of low-hanging branches. Toby was faster than you, though. He would cover the distance before being noticed, surely.  


You reached the first spot; a young oak tree with only its trunk to put between yourself and the house. Luckily, it was wide enough to block any direct line-of-sight, but you felt your body shrink at the idea that it wasn't good enough. A stolen peek at the house's windows and surrounding areas gave you the all-clear to keep moving. So far, you hadn't noticed anyone spotting your dark figure in the night.  


The next spot pulled you away from the house, but you had a better angle to see the garage door on the far side. The huge, motor-controlled door was fully closed. Probably for the best, at the moment, so no one could be watching from within. There was an octagonal, tower-like section sunken to the house between the garage and front porch. Four of the six walls on the first floor of this Tudor revival each had a large window. According to the house prints, that was the sun room. You couldn't quite tell if anyone was watching from inside, due to your distance away, but you sprinted out to the next young oak tree, anyway.  


So far, so good. No sudden glares of lights. No alarms blaring in the air. No screaming or gunfire. Your team hadn't screwed up, yet.  


You carefully scanned over the the small, concrete sub-porch that was decorated with two white, Greek-style columns. A number of silvery cans were strung across the open space between the columns; a simple way to alert the residents inside. The main porch looked empty of traps, though you mentally noted the possibility of hidden tripwires and such. All you could see were a few rocking chairs, accompanied by a small stand between each pair, and a picnic table near the Tudor-style extension of the house.  


Speaking of which, upon closer inspection of the sun room, you saw no shadow of a person spying back at you. Not that you could see into it clear as day, but your night vision, enhanced by the bright moonlight, was enough to see some detail and furniture within the room.  


You made a break for the porch.  


As soon as you reached the small steps that led to the sub porch, you dove and rolled under line of cans, then hopped back to your feet in a low crouch. Another set of small steps bridged the height gap to the main, wooden porch. You glanced both directions down the length of the already wide platform as though about to cross a street, then crept up to the front door. The two slim, stained-glass widows on either side of the solid door didn't aid in your endeavor to see what waited beyond. Though many of the traps had been noted on the prints, the foyer was one of the unknown areas.  


The door was locked - as expected. You checked the windows lining the sun room, then the window between it and the garage. All were locked. Upon further inspection, you found that the windows wouldn't be unlockable from the outside. You'd be forced to break the glass if you wanted in there. That would make far too much noise for a stealth mission, so you opted to try your luck with the front door.  


Since you didn't carry any lockpicking tools, your only option was to use your knives to unscrew the fixed doorknob and its deadbolt counterpart - similar to what you had done at Edea Carter's home. Hopefully, this time, you could prevent the other half from falling out of the door and making a ton of unnecessary racket.  


Just as you wiggled the tip of your knife into one of the screws, the thunder of a pistol cracked the air from inside. You jolted, initially thinking that the very screw had been pressure-sensitive. After a quick glance around, you saw no trace of a bullet impact anywhere nearby. It happened elsewhere. You hoped that none of your teammates had met the business end of the gun, then you gathered your wits again and returned to getting the door open.  


You kept your head leaned on the door's form, aiming an ear to listen for any unwanted movement from within the house. So far, all that entered your patient ear was the soft scraping of your knife and the screws dancing in circles.  


Once the door knob and deadbolt were loosened from their hold, you managed to keep them from falling apart, while still leaving enough of a gap to work the locks open from inside the mechanism. One satisfied click. Two satisfied clicks. A gentle, yet firm, push on the door granted you access to the large house - finally.  


After a short round of tango with the door, you peeked inside, crouched as you tried to keep yourself small. There was a bantam foyer, which opened to a short hallway. You ignored the entrances to the living room and dining room on either side of the said hallway, noticing the bypass glass door that led to the back patio. It had been left ajar well enough for a person to slide in. Toby must have used that entrance. No scent of blood entered your nostrils, so he must have successfully avoided the gun rigged to the door. At that thought, you glanced up in an attempt to spot the pistol that was said to be mounted on the ceiling near the staircase, but the rise in the ceiling at the end of the hallway caused an awkward angle. No big deal.  


You made your way into the foyer, knowing that you were falling behind from the others. Your first step, however, failed you.  


The petite rug just inside the foyer was covering a false floor. Your forward foot had only caught the edge of this man-made hole by the arch. The heel of your boot hooked to the safer part of the floor, but your momentum had you fall forward, anyway. Luckily, the trap wasn't large enough to swallow your knees, and you were able to catch yourself on the other side. You felt the tips of large nails bite into the soles of your boots, but they didn't pierce through.  


Just as you had caught your fall, face nearly impacting with the floor, you heard a - _pop!_ \- and the shattering of glass in front of you. What else had happened here? Before you could look up, your nose and airways began to burn as though you had inhaled an invisible fire.  


Gas. You didn't know what kind of gas, but it wasn't good for your health.  


You exhaled everything in your lungs and refused to draw anything back in. Scrambling backward, you pushed yourself outside, nails and other metallic objects falling from your boots as they lost their grip. You rolled back in a desperate aim to get out faster, then closed the door behind you, immediately gasping for fresh air once you felt safe. As you panted, nose running from the intense irritation of its passageway linings, you stared out beyond the dark yard and wondered what to do now. The growls of large dogs rumbled from above on the second floor. They were soon hushed, though not before one of the dogs attempted a warning bark.  


Surely, with all the noise of the gunshot and jar of gas breaking - not to mention the dogs announcing your team's arrival - you had broken any cover that the four of you once held. This mission was already showing signs of failure. Was it worth continuing?  


A pale orb from far past the pond caught your eye. You realized that Slenderman was watching, keeping cover behind the scattered trees. Whether he was concerned or judging, you couldn't tell. The sight of him urged you to move on, though, for fear of what punishment he might bestow upon you if you didn't. Sitting there, already beaten at the beginning of a mission was intolerable. There were other ways inside. You would have to use one that your teammates had already cleared, otherwise, you'd fall even further behind them.  


Pushing your body to its feet, you finished catching your breath and rounded the house to the back patio. At least you were certain of that entrance being safe. Everything else would be guess-work until you reached other known traps. Surely, those were already disabled?  


The air stung as it rushed back and forth through your raw airways. There was little you could do about it, so you fought through the pain; it was at least tolerable now. You peeked through the glass patio door, scanning the area as you warily breathed the interior air. To your right was the open kitchen. Three sawed-off shotguns were mounted on stands and aimed to each of the three windows. Toby must have seen them - not that they were hard to spot - while looking for his own way in. To your left was a long and narrow hall of some sort, only interrupted by a folding door a few feet down its length. Trusting that your teammate had already inspected the dark area, you moved forward to the staircase ahead. You held your breath, knowing that the gas in the foyer had most likely spread a fair distance by now.  


It was strange, though, that you hadn't heard any sort of retaliation from the humans, despite the obvious signs of a break-in. Were they waiting for an ambush? Were they already dead? Did they escape without Slenderman's knowledge? Something wasn't right.  


Just as you were about to creep up the stairs, a flash of bright light, accompanied by a deafening _bang!_ came from the living room. You stumbled back a bit, mostly startled, then gathered yourself upon the realization of what just happened. Someone had set off a flash grenade. There was no doubt one of your teammates were in trouble, so you held your breath and rushed down the short hall and into the living room, passing through the gas. Your eyes stung and watered, but not enough to cause hindrance.  


Across the room, you found Toby, Hoodie, and Masky struggling to stand, disorientation heavily apparent on their forms. You hurried over to help them, careful not to speak. No doubt, the humans were listening for your team by now.  


The closest teammate to your concerned reach was Hoodie, who was hunched over, barely able to keep himself on his feet. Even with the cloth mask over his entire face, the intensity of the flash grenade temporarily blinded him. The explosion of the grenade probably aided in his ill condition, too. You wedged a shoulder under his arm and helped him hold steady. Your gazing eyes tried to catch his in an effort to confirm his condition. With his free hand, Hoodie rubbed his covered eyes, then vigorously shook his head. He slowly turned to look at you, soon lining with your gaze, and gave a single nod that he had recovered enough to take care of himself. You nodded back, letting go, and moved to check on the others. Masky and Toby were still trying to rub out the blindness, holding themselves up on nearby walls. The smoke from the grenade thickened further toward the small area that led to the garage. The door wasn't even open, so what set off the trap so soon?  


You didn't have time to concern yourself with past mistakes. Above, stirring rumbled on the second floor. The humans were moving now. They probably thought your team was at a disadvantage from the grenade - they were mostly right.  


Next to your group was a closet built into the staircase. You gathered the men and pulled them into the closet, closing the door with barely a sound. At least in here, they would be able to safely recover while you figured out a new plan - the original had fallen apart. In your dark vision, you saw a contraption set up toward the stairs' steps. A pitchfork was horizontally mounted on it, ready to pierce through one of the steps upon activation.  


Footsteps rounded the vicinity of the staircase from above. There seemed to be a small group. The humans were planning to come down, from the sounds of it. You looked to your teammates and nodded your head toward the pitchfork trap with an idea. They all caught on quick and moved to the cleverly rigged contraption. From what Hailey had said, the trap was activated via pressure plate that was loaded into one of the steps. A couple of steps higher, one of the vertical boards opened up to allow the pitchfork through. The hydraulic system attached to it all seemed powerful enough to impale a human with ease. You and your team set up the trap to function without the pressure plate, and instead on your command. If things went right, for once in this mission, then you could at least take one human down before they know what hit them.  


The footsteps from above stopped right at the top of the stairs. There was whispering, but you couldn't quite understand what they were saying. Masky drew his pistol and aimed it to the ceiling, waiting and listening to pinpoint where exactly the humans were standing. Toby stopped his comrade by placing a halting hand on the man's arm. He was right; shooting blindly would only scatter the humans and not guarantee a kill. There were too many to take on, for the time being. Your team would need to pick off the humans without being ambushed.  


Slowly, a set of footsteps began to descend the stairs. They seemed hesitant - which they should - that their flash grenade trap wasn't successful enough for their attack. After a few steps down, another set began to follow. Your team patiently waited for the leading human to reach the bottom of the stairs. Each faint thump of a foot struck a cord with your nerves, causing an itch in your fingers.  


After so many steps, you had become familiar with their characteristic sound, so when the leading human took a longer step down to avoid the pressure plate, your team knew that it was time to kill.  


Hoodie released the hydraulic break, sending the pitchfork plunging through the swinging vertical board and straight into the back of the unfortunate human. You heard him strain out a grunt as his body tried to find a way to move without causing pain, but it was only successful in quite the opposite. The other humans began to panic, thinking that their now injured ally had mistakenly activated the trap. Most of them began moving down the stairs, still trying to hold what little stealth they had left. You held your breath, hoping none of them would detect your team standing right under their feet.  


As the humans queried their ally and tried to get him off of the pitchfork, your team stood still, wondering what to do next. At this point, all four of you were just winging the mission. Things weren't going quite as planned, and there were few safe options for escape.  


"Hang on," said one of the humans. "I'll go deactivate the trap." She cleared the staircase and came around toward the closet. Your team searched each other's masked faces for answers on what to do.  


You drew up a finger to your lips, encouraging the men to stay quiet as you slipped a knife from inside your coat. Moving to the door, you flattened yourself against the wall and waited.  


Almost immediately, the woman pulled the door open and stepped inside, but didn't make it far before you shoved your blade right into her esophagus, preventing her from calling to her friends for help. Masky and Hoodie caught the woman's body so she couldn't flail, kick, or collapse on the floor in a suspicious way.  


It was a shame, though, that you couldn't watch the life fade from the woman's eyes on account of the gas mask covering her face. That must have been what took everyone so long to react to the grenade. They had heard you break the jar at the front door, but suspected that the intruder might still be alive, thus they waited. When they thought the intruder was weakened enough, that's when they made the move. You had to wonder how many Proxies they expected to show up. Perhaps they underestimated?  


While the three of you took care of the woman's moribund body, Toby took her place and retracted the pitchfork. Once everything was secure, your team made sure that the woman was dead, took her mask, then escaped the closet in hushed silence.  


Hoodie signaled that there were two humans at the stairs, not counting the recently impaled one. Your team could take them out, dwindling the threat a little more. All of you agreed. You replaced your personal mask with the gas-filter one, tucking your's away into your jacket. Since you weren't strong enough to move people across a floor, it was your job to take on one of the humans while in the slowly dissipating gas cloud.  


You crept over to the hall, peeking around to see two humans crouched over an injured man. They were trying to stop the bleeding as he laid face-down on the floor. All three had gas masks on.  


First, you lured the two remaining humans to you, into the living room - or tried to, anyway. You tossed a nearby DVD case in their direction, catching their attention. Both paused, calling out a name that you assumed belonged to the woman in the closet. Masky and Toby took their places on either side of the sofa, staying far enough away from the gas cloud until it was time to move. Hoodie remained hidden behind the sofa, waiting to do his part. You shrank back into a dark corner toward the staircase, waiting to make your next move.  


Two pistols clicked off their safety. One set of footsteps slowly inched closer as their owner cursed under their breath, hoping it was the unknowingly dead ally.  


There was no moonlight to illuminate your team. You were all completely in the advantage. All that was lighting the dark, thick air was the tiny flashlight mounted on each human's body camera.  


With no further indication that someone was nearby, the human warily stepped around the wall, then froze when they spotted Toby and Masky's waiting forms.  


"No, no, no! No!" The human panicked, unable to fire their gun, as Masky and Toby charged him. This human seemed thin and frail, so he was easy to push around, which is exactly what the two did. Slipping their arms under each of the terrified human's, they continued their momentum across the hall and into the dining room, where they slammed him over the table.  


You and Hoodie didn't waste time to get moving. Hoodie darted to the computer room, knowing that with the keypad-locked door and placement of the room, the powerful disruptor was hidden inside. You, on the other hand, dashed down the hall to the remaining human, who, still crouched over their downed ally, had one hand on the wounded's back and another hand holding a pistol. Their wide eyes whipped back and forth, trying to keep up with the all the anxieties building around them.  


Giving little time for the human to react, you curved in from behind him, hoping to avoid the pistol's business end. Your target turned at the sound of your coat fluttering with your movements. He aimed to shot, but you caught under his arm and held it firmly locked away from your body. The gun rang out. With a hard swipe of your foot, you managed to knock the gun from your captive's grip, but no sooner than he dropped it did the back of his head collide with your temple. Stars with no radiating light twinkled in your vision for several seconds. The human had hit you hard; enough to buy him time to get loose of your hold.  


Right as you gathered your thoughts, you saw the man struggle to acquire his fallen ally's gun. At once, you pulled from your coat a knife for each hand, and then pounced on the human's back, digging your blades into his shoulders. His rugged and tired voice cried out, but you didn't stop. You ripped the knives out and returned again with a barrage of stabs until your prey gave in and collapsed atop his ally. Once you were satisfied that they couldn't retaliate, you slit each man's throat.  


Toby and Masky stole your attention when they looted the sawed-off shotguns from their stands. Each of the three guns had a single bullet loaded in their chambers. Hoodie caught up by cutting through the dining room so not to be in the thinning gas cloud for too long. It was then that the four of you exchanged customized hand gestures to communicate the situation. You joined in closer, taking off the gas mask and returning your own to its rightful place.  


Hoodie was unable to get into the computer room. The keypad would set off an alarm and there was no nearby hint of what the code might be. All of you agreed to leave it for the time being. Maybe one of the remaining humans knew the key code. If not, it'll be one of the last things to break into.  


All four humans that had descended the stairs were taken care of. As far as everyone knew, that meant that six were left somewhere upstairs. They knew of your presence now - no denying it. They knew their friends had been killed, too. They were like six terrified, trapped mice.  


After further hand-driven discussion, your team agreed to split up at the top of the stairs. Each would then cover the nearest room, if possible. Hopefully, the humans hadn't holed up in a single room, leaving an unfortunate Proxy to survive until back-up arrived.  


The four of you quietly ascended the steps, careful of the pitchfork trap, though it was already disabled. Toby stepped lightly on each step, keeping in mind what happened last time he was so careless about them. You and Masky took the left; Toby and Hoodie took the right. Masky began with the guest room, which was locked. You moved past him and down the hall. Shortly to your left was a small closet, which you checked for anyone hiding within. There was no one.  


You continued further down the hall until you reached an option of going straight or left again. According to the blueprints of the house, there were three bedrooms on this side of the house. Each bedroom was connected by a single bathroom in the center. Hailey had noted that the bedroom straight ahead of you remained locked at all times; the humans were maybe reducing vulnerabilities. Not that you couldn't take the door handle off, but if there were easier options, then you wanted to save time.  


Glancing down each hallway, you ensured that the paths were clear. Two doors down, a light was glowing from the open bedroom. Hoodie or Toby must have gotten in, but why turn on the light? Surely that wasn't on purpose. You took the left route, anyway. Almost immediately to your right was then a door that had yet to be open. You pressed your ear against it, careful not to make a sound, and listened for anyone on the other side. If one of your teammates were lurking around, you didn't hear them - a good thing, in its own way. You checked your surroundings once more, then tested the doorknob. It was unlocked, surprisingly.  


With knitted brows and narrowed eyes, you warily pushed the door open to peek inside. The room's light immediately came on, nearly blinding you. Your blood ran cold, thinking that someone had noticed you trying to enter, so you ducked back against the wall.  


Nothing happened.  


You dared to peek into the bedroom, expecting to stare down the barrel of a gun. Instead, you found a bedroom void of people. It looked used - clothes and blankets thrown askew - as though people had recently occupied it. Was this room for one of your recent victims? Or did everyone move to a single room after all?  


To your diagonal left, the folding door to the bathroom gave way to Toby's hunched form. He quickly spotted you and gave an assuring nod that everything was clear. You motioned to the third room, wondering if he had checked it, too. He jerked his head in its direction, signalling for you to follow him, which you did.  


Passing through the bathroom, the two of you took the folding door to the right and entered the bedroom in question. The light was already on. Everything was quiet. You arched a brow, wondering what the humans had planned. Something wasn't right.  


As if to confirm your worries, an alarm pierced the air. You and Toby exchanged glances before taking off to return to the hallway. A gunshot cracked through air, cancelling out the alarm for a tiny moment. The two of you split up around the staircase and its second-floor closet, making sure to leave no blind spots. Upon reaching the stairs, you heard glass shatter just before finding the guest room open, lights on, and the source of the alarm wailing from inside. Toby quickly joined you near the door, then aimed his shotgun at the scene that was playing out across the room.  


Masky was in the grip of some large, frothing man. You teammate's head had been shoved through one of the windows, though his hands clenching over the adversary's arm gave you some relief that he was still alive. The man was dressed in army slacks, equipped to the teeth with guns, knives, and, dare your eyes deceive you, home-made grenades. He was yelling profanities and threats, spit flying from his mouth with nearly every syllable. You could barely understand him with the alarm blaring right above the door. Not far into the room, Hoodie was helplessly standing to the side, ready and waiting for an opportunity to attack the man in any way possible. Your yellow-clad ally gripped the pistol from the holster on his lower back, shotgun tossed aside on the floor. He knew if he made the wrong move at the wrong time, Masky could be killed. This man was not to be taken lightly.  


Desperate for a solution, your eyes scanned the room while your brain skimmed over all information the blueprints had covered. There were three windows: north, west, and south walls of the room. Each of them were locked from the inside; the north and west windows were also nailed shut. The north and west sides of the room overlooked the roof of the garage. If you could get out of the house and find a way to climb atop of the garage, then maybe you could get a clear shot.  


Nothing else seemed plausible. Right now, everyone was at a stalemate.  


You shrank down the stairs, hugging the wall that kept you out of the army man's sight. Toby looked back at you, but you quickly held a finger to you lips. He needed to pretend that no one was missing. If the enemy suspected someone missing, then you wouldn't get the possible advantage from outside.  


Toby reluctantly nodded. You hadn't quite gained the full trust of your teammates, but you'd be damned if you didn't do something. There was little they could do about your autonomous decision, anyway.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super crazy army guy nearly kills everyone.  
> Everyone nearly dies (including the humans).  
> Slenderman owns up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this chapter being shorter than my usual lengths.  
> I typically aim for a minimum of 4,500 words per chapter, but this one is about 1k short.  
> I was unable to figure out how to continue the chapter, and the way it is now seemed like a good stopping point.
> 
> New OCs, Slenderman's brothers other two brothers will be introduced. The story will also begin to focus on Zalgo and his part in all of this. Thank you for your patience, everyone! We are officially half way through this nightmare of a story! lol I'm hoping to update faster than I have been.... But it all depends on the time the work gives me for my hobbies (which isn't much).

The thick, metallic smell of blood filled your nose as you descended the stairs, reminding you of the bodies decorating the floor below. With surprising grace, you danced right over the corpses and dashed out through the back patio door. Your eyes scanned along the exterior walls of the large house, searching for any form of access to the garage roof. Most possible foot- and hand-holds became useless with the overhanging roof's edges. While you might have been able to pull yourself up – just barely – the lack of a firm grip sounded alarms you in head to keep searching.  


An idea sprang into your head, despite the background noises of the maddened army man screaming his head off at your teammates. (Somehow, no one had been shot at.) If there was a ladder, you could get on the roof. The trick was getting it set up without making too much noise.  


There was no ladder available outside of the garage, which wasn't surprise. Most likely, there would be one inside, though. So, you rushed to the back door, knowing that it had already been opened. That way was already proven safe-  


You stopped dead in your tracks, just before the threshold of the doorway. Your eyes stared down hard at the thin wire strung taut across your path like a black cat to a superstitious person. Whatever that tripwire activated, you didn't want to know - especially after the flash grenade incident. Thank goodness you were graced with the Proxy night vision.  


With the lingering pain of dread settling in your chest, you carefully stepped over the tripwire and entered the garage. Once clear of the trap, you went back to the original task – finding a ladder.  


Three vehicles of differing types were parked alongside each other. Metal shelves lined the garage walls, holding plenty of various yard equipment, maintenance tools, and knickknacks. In one corner, hiding away, you saw a tall, orange figure – a folding ladder. Dread rose to ambition as you slipped by the vehicles, their dead headlights like the sleeping eyes of metal dragons. You were going to steal their guarded treasure, and the last thing you needed to do was wake them.  


Hands gripping the tall ladder on either side of its folded legs, you awkwardly hoisted it up and carried it along your side. There was just enough room for you to squeeze back across the garage floor without knocking your loot against everything nearby. Your shuffling feet echoed in the eerie silence of the garage's wake. Glass shattered from above on the second floor. Thuds reverberated for a brief moment. Whatever was happening, you needed to get back to it fast.  


You struggled to exit the garage with the awkward load in your grip. In your rush of adrenaline, you did your best to step back over the tripwire, but the ladder knocked against the door frame and caused a jolt in your balance as it bounced. You lost your footing halfway through the door, where the tip of your boot caught the tripwire. As you went tumbling to the ground, the cruelty of life continued to laugh at your misery. Things only got worse.  


The now broken tripwire activated a deafening car alarm to blare its horn over and over again, all the while its headlights flashed in time with the rhythmic honking. You were sure that your cover was blown. Not only that, but when you had fallen, your arm had been caught between the ladder steps. Its twisting form, on impact with the ground, snapped your forearm into a grossly unnatural angle. For the moment, you weren't feeling the inevitable pain that was to come, but you could sense it slowly crawling to your brain for registry. You repeatedly cursed out, knowing that no one could hear you above that awful car alarm. Gently, though hurriedly, you did your best to slip your broken arm from its woven position through the ladder. The small, sharp pains of any slight movement sent fire to your brain. You fought it off as best you could, knowing that the mission was nowhere near over.  


Using your only good arm, you clumsily carried the ladder to the garage wall and managed to unfold it with the shoulder of your broken arm. The top of the ladder reached just short of the overhanging roof.  


First, however, you needed to do something about your arm. All you could really do was secure it against your body so it wouldn't catch on anything. There was no time to find a splint. You unlatched one of the longer belts and the two short belts from your jacket. The two short belts were wrapped around both ends your broken forearm. The long belt was looped through the smaller ones and across your chest like a sling. It was an awful sling, but it would have to do.  


The next difficult step was to climb the ladder and balance yourself enough to get atop of the roof. There wasn't really a solid spot for you to set the ladder, so it had a wiggle to it with each step you climbed. Your good arm did all the work; your broken arm simply cried out in throbbing pain as it gradually swelled underneath your coat sleeve. Even your fingers tingled with the intense blood pressure, though they refused to be of any use to you. It was instinct to clench your jaw at the pain, though it provided little benefit, and fought through. The ladder wobbled, your body tensed, and you took another step higher.  


Eventually, you did manage to get to top step, despite the warning sticker in large font. With one hand flat on the roof shingles, you dug your fingers into its grit and pulled yourself forward onto the shoulder of your better half. Slowly, and with more strain that you anticipated, you lifted your hips up and swung a leg over to join your upper body. Then, you kicked off of the uncertain ladder and down the slant of the roof, hugging your broken arm against your body as best you could. It didn't go so well, in terms of pain, but you didn't continue to roll right off the garage roof. Its shallow slant was easy to maneuver.  


As the deafening blares of the car alarm battled against the screaming of the lunatic army man, you stole a glance to the front of the house where you had last seen the Slenderman. He was still there; watching with his usual mysterious air about him. You stood up, making sure to keep your footing on the slanted surface, and gazed out to your master with pleading eyes. It would be no good to wave frantically at him. Either he would translate the signal into a reassuring wave, or your luck would continue to go south and the broken army man nearby would happen to notice you. So, you stared at Slenderman for several long moments, hoping he would detect the anxious and desperate demeanor in your distant form.  


Four new gunshots rip you back to the situation at hand. Your head whipped toward the windows of the guest bedroom, where you see the army man's back facing you. Beyond him, Hoodie and Toby were hunched forward, clutching their fresh, but not fatal bullet wounds. Both seemed to take a hit in the shoulder or arm. Of course, Toby didn't seem to be in pain, for obvious reasons, but he still held pressure to his wound, hoping to reduce the bleeding. Masky was somewhere on the floor, beyond your field of view through the windows.  


You couldn't wait any longer. Now was the time to act while you had the advantage.  


Pushing your coat skirt aside, you reached to your hip and pulled out the pistol from its holster. Your careful steps brought you closer to the window directly between your target and your gun barrel. You stopped a short few feet from the glass pane, anticipating a backlash of glass fragments, aiming the pistol with surprisingly steady hands. Toby and Hoodie noticed you, quickly understanding your plans, and continued to hold the opponent's attention – not that it was a difficult task.  


For some reason, though the crazed man continued to make threats that he would fire again with his aimed gun, he never followed through with it. You suspected him to be bluffing; he was out of ammo.  


You centered the pistol to the back of your enemy's head, knowing that he was packing bullet armor. Then, without further hesitation, you fired a bullet into his skull. The glass shattered upon impact. The bullet tore straight through flesh and bone. A splash of blood reverberated the damage, followed by heavy gushing of more crimson fluids. The army man, though surely dead, stood for a short while longer as the remaining electrical impulses sent by his brain forced his finger to pulled the trigger over and over; it only clicked with empty threats. His legs shook violently before the large body finally give in to its ultimate end and collapsed to the floor. Still, you trained your pistol on his body, waiting for it to move again. It never did.  


Only when you felt the stares of your teammates did you lower your gun. Masky had raised himself onto his elbows, Hoodie and Toby were frozen in awe and relief. The car alarm rhythmically cried out into the night, no longer opposed by the sounds of gunfire and screaming. Compared to you, those three were veterans of Proxyhood, yet they hadn't faced such a challenge until tonight. Still, you couldn't tell if the men were silently thanking you or scolding you for your actions; you hoped for the former.  


Hoodie made the first move, going to Masky to help him to his feet. Masky woozily got up with his comrade's aid. Toby went to the window in an effort to open it for you, but found it to be nailed shut. The two of you had briefly forgotten what the blueprint notes had said. The goggled man motioned for you to back up as he wielded one of his hatchets. You know what he planned to do, and thus followed his request. Toby began dismantling the window with little trouble. He cleared away the glass, then hacked off their now barren frames. It wasn't a roomy opening, but it was enough. Toby held out his hand to you, his gratefulness if your earlier actions much more apparent to you. This, of course, gave your chest a small shock.  


You hadn't always gotten away with acting on your own – not with something so dangerous as that – which usually ended with painful punishments. Here, though, your teammates were happy with your individual decision. It was, to say the least, refreshing.  


So, you took his hand, and with Toby's help, climbed into the room to join the team. Toby immediately gave you a firm pat on the shoulder, making eye contact to ensure his sincerity. The no talking rule was still in effect, so this was all anyone could do at the moment. Masky and Hoodie gave their share of thanks, as well.  


Here, the four of you took the time to administer first aid on each other. The remaining humans – and two dogs – were locked away in the master bedroom. There was no doubt about this, seeing as the rest of the house had been cleared out.  


Masky, Toby, and Hoodie were all treated to makeshift gauze pads and bandages using the clothes provided by the corpse in the room. He wouldn't be needed his clothes anymore. Your arm was splinted and wrapped into a sling. This took the pressure off of your fracture tremendously. Everyone was in pain. Everyone was ready to get this mission over with. Things weren't going in your favor.  


The only thing stopping you from moving forward was the solid lock and door to the master bedroom. Somehow, your team had to get through that – or drive the humans out.  


Toby pulled out a small cigarette lighter with a twinkle in his eyes. Masky, Hoodie, and yourself exchanged glances, not seeing an easier option, then gave Toby the confirmation he needed to get started. Grabbing the remainder of the corpse's shredded jacket, Toby rushed out of the room and began his work to set fire under the master bedroom door. Hoodie began giving orders, signaling for you and Masky to hide down the hallway toward the bedrooms. He and Toby would cover the guest bedroom and the hallways corner to the right of the stairs. This way, when the inhabitants of the master bedroom rushed out, your team could cover both directions and gun everyone down.  


With no reason to argue, you and Masky rushed down the hall, passing by Toby as he began flicking the lighter, and took your places around the nearest two corners to take cover.  


Taking the corner that formed the master bedroom's exterior, it wasn't long before you began to hear the panicking voices from within. The pair of dogs accompanied their humans, growling and whining with matched anxiety. There were no windows in the master bedroom. Its adjoined bathroom had only two half-sized windows; too small for a human to fit through. If the smoke from Toby's fire did as planned, then the inhabitants of the master bedroom would have to retreat through the door. Things finally seemed like they were going your way.  


“We have to get out,” you heard a woman plead with her group. Despite the car alarm ceaselessly filling the air, it was much less potent to your ears from further across the house.  


“They're probably waiting right outside the door,” a man growled. “We're fucked either way!”  


“I'm not going out like this. I'm not dying by their hands – by its hands!” Another man's desperate voice agreed with the woman.  


“This is all your fault, anyway!” Yet another man added his thoughts, much more aggressive. “You brought him to my family and now we're caught in the middle of this-this slaughter.”  


“I'm not the only one!” The accused defended. “Bradford brought it here, too!”  


“Yeah, and now he's dead! We're all gonna end up just like him!” The sounds of bodies hit the floor as the arguing men began to fight. The dogs began to bark ferociously, confused and fueled by their master's own chaotic energy.  


A younger female cried out, “Daddy, stop!” But she went unheard by her allies.  


The humans were turning against each other. Maybe they would take out themselves. Surely, they wouldn't just hole up in the bedroom and suffocate.  


One of the men let out a blood-curdling scream as the dogs grew more aggressive to the situation beyond the wall. “Gyah! Get your dogs off me! Oh, God!”  


“Fuck you, Jim! Maybe if you die, it will leave us alone! Fuck you!” The father, winded from the fight, emptied his lungs with betrayal to Jim.  


“Jesus Christ, Randall. Call them off! We're all stuck with this problem now!” The man sitting on the sidelines tried to persuade the dogs' master, but it was too late.  


Jim's screams increased to throat-shredding volumes. The dogs tore him apart in order to defend their owner. They were only doing their job. Soon, Jim's desperate cries trickled down to deathly silence. Once again, the only sound to be heard was the annoying car alarm, muffled by the few walls. You began to hear whimpering from the girl, then scolding from the mother. “Randall, you idiot,” she fought against her own sobbing. “This is what it wants!”  


“Exactly,” Randall's shaky voice forsook his words of confidence. “It wanted Jim. It never wanted us. Now that Jim and Bradford are gone, we're free!”  


“We're not free, Randall,” his wife tried to get through to her husband. “We're too involved.” She broke into a fit of coughs, most likely from the smoke.  


Shuffling could be heard from within the bedroom. Shortly after, a round of gasps reacted to whatever Randall had done. “I had a feeling it might come to this,” he calmly stated.  


“Now hold on a minute.”  


“There's got to be some other way.”  


“There is another way,” Randall held his newly relaxed tone, a large contrast from the earlier fiasco. “We could walk out of that door right now and be killed by its Proxies. We could die on its terms.” He paused. “Or, we could die on our terms. We could finally have control again.”  


Your mind raced to list the possibilities of what Randall had planned. Some sort of suicide pills or drink? It couldn't have been a gun. The others would have reacted so knowingly. This was an ultimatum. This was something they all could recognize as one thing.  


“We could take them out with us.” Randall's words weighed heavy on your ears. How much time did you have before they decided?  


You turned your wide eyes to Masky, panic clear on your half-masked face. Silently, you mouthed the word 'bomb' to him, hoping he understood.  


“Okay,” the wife agreed, muffling her daughter's disagreeing cries with a tight hug. “Let's do it your way.”  


Masky grabbed a handful of your coat and pulled you along as he dashed back to the guest bedroom with you in tow. As soon as he reached Hoodie at the doorway, he didn't hesitate to speak out, “Bomb!” Hoodie cursed under his breath. Toby caught everyone's attention. He moved aside for you to see Hailey waving everyone into the hallways closet.  


No one questioned the girl as they followed her into the small room. Just as the door clicked shut, you swore you heard an explosion, but it was cut short and lost to the sounds of frantic horses whinnying and stamping the ground. Familiar smells of the beginning of your mission filled your nose. A faint, orange light glowed from reflections into the only window available to the room.  


“The storage room?” You breathed out in relief. Hailey had transported your team to the barn. The house had exploded and erupted into flames.  


Hailey opened the room door, peeking out toward the burning house, “It's somewhat of a closet. Not quite your traditional house closet, but enough.” She flashed a nervous glance your way, subconsciously scratching at the rotting skin of her hands, then stepped out of the storage room toward something.  


You and your team followed Hailey out, quickly seeing Slenderman standing in the main isle of the barn. Hailey continued past him, working to let the frantic horses out of their stalls. Not you, nor your fellow Proxies, knew how to react seeing your master after such a devastating mission. As far as any of you were concerned, the mission was a failure. You couldn't complete it without Hailey's help. If she hadn't shown, things would be, in a way, much worse.  


Once the last of the horses were freed and escaped the barn, Slenderman finally began to speak, but not to his Proxies. “Thank you for your assistance, Hailey. I apologize for the abrupt request. You may leave whenever you like, I can handle things from here.”  


With a shy nod, Hailey twiddled her thumbs and walked back into the storage room, closing the door behind her.  


“We should be going,” Slenderman reached out his tendrils to his Proxies. You flinched, expecting to be choked, but only felt a gentle touch on your shoulder before being slender-walked to the mansion's medical room.  


With professional ease, your master began working simultaneously on all four Proxies and their battle wounds. You were given pain medication and antibiotics. Bullets and debris fragments were removed from your teammates. Burns were oiled and bandaged. Your arm was aligned and placed in a proper splint and sling. All the while, Slenderman ignored the pained grunts and groans of his Proxies as he spoke. “Today's mission was, in short, a mistake. I had grown too confident of your capabilities. You were outmatched and left vulnerable to unknown dangers. I should have had The Gentleman scope out the entirety of the house. I should have accounted for the probability that they would use explosives of that caliber – that they would use explosives at all. They possessed the personnel with such savvy.”  


Was he apologizing for the mission? Your master, the unforgiving, strict, and punishing being that you knew, was taking the blame for the mission's turnout. Sure, he saw reason to accidents, but with all the mistakes made tonight, you and your teammates equally felt to blame. It was as though Slenderman had an underlying guilt. Had he made a mistake – a miscalculation? He admitted to it, but somehow your mind couldn't wrap around the reality.  


This being, so calm, collected, and precise, had lapsed when it was most important.  


You couldn't help but train your eyes on Slenderman's form, staring at him with mute disbelief.  


Soon, your master concluded his monologue, along with treating his Proxies to medical attention. “Rest now,” he touched a tendril to each of your foreheads. No one objected to his command, welcoming the ease of sleep.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing. Again.  
> Miscellaneous stuff.  
> Slenderman violates your mouth.

Pain - aching and throbbing like a parasite stirring deep within your arm. The sensation melded into a dream you couldn't recall, soon waking you into reality. You groaned. This was never your favorite way to start a day, but it was becoming a common occurrence the longer you endured the Creepypasta lifestyle.

Groggy with lingering medications and the sleep-spell Slenderman had put on your and your teammates, you rolled over and wiped the soggy drool from one side of your face. Then, you reached out to the night stand beside your bed. You knew there would be more pills waiting to relieve you of the Just as you predicted, your hand landed on a small, plastic cup, which rattled slightly with the tablets and capsules inside. You couldn't see exactly what they were, nor how many you were about to ingest, due to the blur of your still-focusing eyes, but you hoisted the cup and dumped its contents into your mouth anyway. Immediately, you swallowed, following up the sticky pieces of chalk and plastic with a healthy dose of water from the glass accompanying the medications. Even though you emptied the large glass, you still felt some pills sitting in your esophagus, fighting their slow descent.

Breakfast would fix that. You were pretty hungry, anyway. The sensation of emptiness grew ever stronger as your stomach began to awaken with the rest of you.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before collecting the glass and pill cup to carry them to the kitchen. It was when you finally stood from the bed that you noticed the thick, sophisticated splint holding your broken arm together. Was that there before falling asleep? Or did your master apply it during your slumber?

No matter. It was just a silly curiosity. You shrugged it off and shuffled your way down the hall, the stairs, and to the mansion's kitchen. By then, your stomach was churning and growling with anticipation. Hopefully, it would hold up, for fear of regurgitating the medication you had preemptively taken.

Just as you approached the kitchen doorway, the sounds of frustration echoed faintly to your ears; grunts, wet slaps, curses, and the like. Your mind could only imagine what oddities were occurring just beyond your view.

Rounding the door way, you found Toby trying his hardest to prepare a - usually - simple peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. Splatters of the two spreads decorated the counter top in his immediate vicinity. The bread slices he so stubbornly tried to garnish were torn and smashed nearly in halves. At this point, Toby may as well have mixed it all in a cup. His dilemma was the lack of a second hand. The gunshot wound from last night seemed to render an arm useless for a time.

"Uh," you uttered, trying to casually announce your presence as you began conversation. "If you can't feel pain, shouldn't you still be able to use your arm?" You soon crossed the kitchen floor and reached Toby's side, making sure to keep a distance so not to be in the line of fire.

Toby growled when the slice of bread he attempted to spread some peanut butter over finally gave way to death and tore completely in half. "Just because I can't feel pain doesn't mean I can keep moving when I'm torn apart." His lingering tone from the bread incident caused your chest to tighten in fear that you had irritated him.

His response was a rather extreme version, compared to his actual situation, but you gathered the point easily. Toby simply couldn't feel pain. All other symptoms of taking damage were still sufferable. Still, his condition was more disappointing that it originally seemed, to which you sarcastically teased, "You mean you're _not_ a real-life Deadpool?"

"Who?"

With an eager grin, you decided to introduce Toby to the comic book character - after successfully making breakfast, of course. "You're gonna love this guy. He regenerates fast and pretty much can't die. Crazy, too." To this, Toby released a dark chuckle full of curiosity and anticipation.

The two of you worked together, using each other's only good arms to make a pair of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was, oddly enough, easier to do than you expected - not that there was much unfamiliarity with preparing such food. There was still a mess, though. You couldn't deny that fact.

Gobbling his sandwich down, Toby chugged a bottle of water that you hadn't noticed. He strained to force down the compacted chunks of food stuck in his throat; the water helped clear things up. You weren't too far behind, though the risk of choking was much less, in your case. The awkward silence between the two of you was soon dashed away when Toby crumbled the empty water bottle and tried to toss it under his leg, aiming for the nearby trashcan, "So, where does t-this guy live?"

Rim shot. The crumpled bottle fell to the floor after tapping the edge of the open-faced trash container.

"He's a comic book character," you corrected Toby. "Deadpool is a fictional person."

"What?" Toby's attention was stolen from picking up his trash, focused on your devastating news. His disenchanted expression reminded you of a child who had just learned that Santa Claus wasn't real. Toby had only learned about Deadpool a few minutes prior, and already he had high hopes. "Man!" He through his arms in the air, "You had me exc-c-cited."

You couldn't help but giggle at your teammate, "You barely know anything about him. What if he has other qualities that really tick you off?"

Toby leaned back against the counter top, gazing across the kitchen, "Y'know, I haven-'t read a comic in a l-ong time. It'd be cool t-to find one of his."

"We'll have to keep a look-out during our missions," you smiled. "For now, you want to read about him a wiki page?"

"Slenderman doesn't give Proxies access to the internet."

"Oh."

That plan was quickly shot down.

* * *

After cleaning Toby's mess of breakfast frustrations, the two of you went your separate ways. The sporadic-twitching man disappeared somewhere upstairs. You, on the other hand, went outside to see what you could do with the garden. Surely, it needed some tending to.

The once full leaves and stems were now wilting. There were still green stems, but the leaves were threatening to rot at any moment. You panicked and ran to the shed for the watering pale. With it, you did your best to pump water from the old-fashioned well spout using only one arm. At least the ground here was level.

Just as you turned to begin dowsing your precious garden water vital hydration, you found yourself facing a dark figure that you were well familiar with. "M-master," you struggled to utter the word as your mind adjust to the abrupt new focus. Raising your head to peer at the pale, lacking face of Slenderman, you waited for whatever he had planned. Slenderman didn't make an appearance unless he had a reason, whether it was personal curiosity, orders, or simple information to share.

"Don't drown your garden today," his deep, milky voice entered the air, your ears, your mind. "It will storm later." You're peripheral vision glanced to the sky behind your master's stark skin, past the perpetual autumn leaves that surrounded Slenderman's mansion. If he wasn't such an omniscient being, you would have called out the Slenderman as a liar. The sky was currently a bright blue – as it commonly was in the Creepypasta world – and only a scarce few puffs of clouds dotted above. Before you could console whether you should still provide some water or not, your master answered the question for you, "Pass over them lightly with some water. It will last them until this evening." It was almost pointless to speak to him at all.

Still, you nodded in compliance, and did as instructed. At least the plants wouldn't go thirsty for much longer. That's all you were worried about.

That little, mysterious, tree sprout, though; it seemed perfectly comfortable in its situation. Your suspicion of what it could be ran wild, not even sure if it was of the human or Creepypasta world. At first, it seemed like a risky joke from one of the residents, but now you weren't so sure. From what you read, a tree needed frequent watering at this current stage, yet this one wasn't wilting with the rest of the garden. "I swear to God, if it's really a gumball tree," you trailed off in your dubiety. To be honest with yourself, you wouldn't even know what to do if the gumball tree grew to produce actual, sugary gumballs.

"Would you sincerely be taken aback by such a phenomenon?" Slenderman's voice pried through your thoughts. "After all that you've witnessed as a Proxy and you dare to doubt _that_ possibility?"

It was difficult to detect if your master was simply pulling your leg or honestly trying to convince you that the possibility of a candy tree was well within reality. What you knew of the laws of nature didn't allow for such a thing. Then again, nor did it allow for Slenderman, but here he was. Hell, many other Creepypastas you've met shouldn't exist, but they did.

Slenderman chuckled from the sidelines of your garden. "You will find that the Creepypasta world is beyond the limits of human understanding and the laws they worship so resolutely." You paused, staring at him as you processed his statement.

Despite all that had happened, you accepted plenty of supernatural events with ease. Many people would be driven insane, yet you shrugged it off as if you had simply watched a horror movie – back to life as though nothing strange happened. Perhaps it was the comfort and trust you grew in your master. Perhaps it was your way of accepting Proxyhood and the inevitability of having a normal human life.

Whatever was helping you, it was more than welcome to stay.

You finished watering the poor, wilting plants, and returned the watering can to the shed. Once again, as you turned to exit the small building, you were blocked by the tall, thin figure of Slenderman. He didn't hesitate to shove a finger between your lips, rooting around your mouth like a careless dentist. Slenderman swabbed along your teeth and gums with the tip of his finger, searching for something. Your brows knitted into a confused and uncomfortable expression, though you didn't dare fight back.

Soon enough, Slenderman removed his finger, pulling along a thick string of saliva. It quickly broke connection when your master raised his hand to better inspect the sample of spit he had gathered. You watched, dumbfounded by what had just happened. Not that you should be surprised, but were certainly weren't expecting it. What did Slenderman want to learn from the contents of your mouth? He seemed to test the texture, rubbing the fluid between two fingers. He gazed at it in his own special way, holding his hand still for a few moments. Did Slenderman expect a certain standard of hygiene from his Proxies?

"Crap!" You breathed out. "I forgot to brush my teeth." Granted, you forgot to do a lot of things in your drug-induced stupor this morning. At least you had been changed into lounge attire last night, but the very idea that you forgot to even dress was baffling to you. Hell, you didn't even stop by the toilet for a morning piss.

Slenderman only replied with a distracted hum. "I'm afraid I don't offer dental plans. You should see about that." Then, he was gone – slender-walked elsewhere.

Did he just make a joke?

The feeling bubbled up inside you, forcing its way out almost as quickly as it began. You doubled over in laughter; not even sure why. "What the fuck," you choked a little. "What the fuck is happening around here?" First, Slenderman admitted to making a mistake. Now, he nonchalantly cracked a joke to one of his Proxies? There was that one time in the library, but still. Your expectations of your master were slowly being tossed out of the window like debunked conspiracy theories.

* * *

Evening came sooner than you originally anticipated. For lack of checking your clock upon waking, you failed to notice that it was already shortly after lunch by that time. It stormed right at 5:00 PM - precisely as Slenderman had claimed.

The torrent of wind, rain, and frequent lightning pummeled the earth. You watched it all from the safety of the mansion, listening to the windows rattle and cry out in protest to their abuse. Rumbling thunder caused the mansion to shiver. Lightning illuminated every usual dark corner. When it rained in the Creepypasta world, it stormed. Hopefully, your garden would hold up through the desecration.

Dinner consisted of scarce findings in the kitchen. Hoodie, Masky, Toby, and yourself all shared what was left of the bread, peanut butter, and jelly. There was a can of green beans hidden deep in the cabinets, and you found a half-used bag of stale, dry pasta. Needless to say, dinner was a creative combination of flavors.

"Jeff and the Jacks need to scavenge better," Hoodie grumbled between chews of his green bean pasta. With his mask off and tossed aside, you could see the healing patches of burns and bruises that spotted his face and neck. His careful and tender use of his otherwise dominant arm told you that he was still healing from the gunshot wound in his shoulder.

Toby swallowed his dribbling mouthful of sloppy pasta before commenting, "You know t-they don't care about-abou-hate us. We're Proxies. They'll bring us the mini-nimum and eat it all when they're o-out hunting."

You and Masky simultaneously agreed by nodding your heads, busy stuffing your faces with the morsels of oddity grub. Masky was also healing from the events of last night. His neck was bruised all around, joining the burns and scrapes over his skin. One of his arms were also limp, like the rest of the team, recovering from a bullet would to the shoulder.

By the time the kitchen was cleaned, through one-armed teamwork, you had become exhausted and ready to crash in your bed. No doubt, the evening medications were kicking in. You struggled through taking a bath, soon regretting the idea with the soothing heat of the water and the reclining position combined into sweet temptation. Before you could scare yourself enough to get out and to your room, darkness consumed you. Sleep had won this battle.

Almost immediately, a dream played before your eyes. That mysterious wolf creature was glaring at you again, tucked away in a maze of darkness. You could see a little more of it than before. Its neck was elongated, winding from the wide, serpent-like head and down to the bulky, canine body. Scales lined the creature's belly and inner legs. Even with its mouth closed, saliva oozed steadily from the tight lips.

You watched it, wondering if the scaled wolf would speak to you this time. Long, disappointing moments drug out of time. All that held away silence was the ominous drip of thick drool splash onto the unseen floor.

With little patience remaining, you decided to be the one to speak first. You cracked open your lips, but before you could even push out an utterance, something cut your voice short. The creature's lips were also parted, ready to speak. The anticipation of hearing your strange dream visitor's words caused you to hold back in silence. You were rewarded with only silence in return, mimicking your quickly shut mouth. This went on for a few more attempts, raising your suspicions of what it could mean.

Before any further reasoning could enter your mind, however, things changed for the worse. Rather than thoughts of curiosity and conspiracy, you processed terror and pain.

The serpent-wolf hybrid struck out its head, fangs bared and neck straightening to its full length. You couldn't even react before the large teeth sank into your neck. Venom poured over your skin and into your veins. Though you could only see darkness surrounding yourself and your foe, the only sense of direction was due to gravity. You felt it shift as your body crumpled to the floor of your dreamscape. It wasn't long before you noticed the lack of control over limbs and muscles that didn't feel like your own. You were convulsing; foaming at the mouth. The creature shrank its neck as the rest of its body caught up and straddled over you. It watched you with piercing eyes.

Those deep, golden eyes. You could easily get lost in them, but such a thought filled you with dread.

* * *

Darkness gave way to blurred imagery in the dimly lit atmosphere of your bedroom. The first recognizable thing to register in your mind was the night stand directly across your view. The next thing to awaken your senses was the luke-warm feeling of dampness smeared on your chin and pillow. It smelled like saliva, though it had a sharpness to it similar to vinegar. You groaned, disgusted by how much you had drooled in your sleep again, and struggled to lift yourself up with your one good arm.

The covers shifted down your torso, alerting your senses to the feeling of cool air beyond its protection. You were naked.

Wait. Weren't you taking a bath before this? "How did I...?" Your voice trailed as you tried force up memories of events that never happened. It was true that you were taking a bath, but anything between then and now was drawn as a blank. You remembered bits of the dream, but it was obviously a dream, so what _really_ happened while you were asleep?

Something pale reached around from behind you, quickly covering your mouth. It felt like cloth. Instant panic surged through your veins, terrified that someone was trying to use chloroform on your already dazed and confused body. You struggled, whipping your head to and fro, then rolling around to face your attacker.

The pressure placed on your bad arm had you collapsed on the bed again. This time, you were facing inky darkness. There was a sense of warmth just behind the tip of your nose, and the difference of stale sounds suggested a solid form accompanying the warmth. Someone was in bed with you.

"That's enough," came Slenderman's voice. It was a mixed with authoritative sternness and a gentle tone typically used toward pets. The moment your ears absorbed the luscious sound waves of your master's fourth-dimensional voice, all traces of adrenaline dissipated.

You relaxed, trusting the powerful being at your side. For once, you could tell he wasn't there to hurt you.

A tendril slithered under your form like a burrowing snake, soon lifting you to sit up. Slenderman finished wiping your face with the damp cloth, cleaning away the drool. You held your confused orbs on the being's lacking face, still trying to piece together what had happened.

With a sigh, Slenderman finally began to answer your swirling questions, "You nearly drowned in the tub." Your blood ran cold at the thought of dying in such a pathetic way, considering the life you lived now. "You had fallen asleep," Slenderman continued. "And this is an additional reason for constantly spying on my Proxies."

This was one of the few times you were thankful for that. Though, the fleeting wonderment of whether or not your death would have been a better outcome flickered within your mind like an owl's swift shadow. It was quickly replaced by the remembrance of your current nude state. Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you tried to tug the bed comforter over your bare chest, shrinking as best you could to hide your embarrassment.

Slenderman chuckled as he tenderly lifted and inspected your broken arm. He removed the thick Velcro and metal splint to reveal the bruised appendage. For the first time, you were fully capable of processing the damage that had been done. Your forearm had been broken in two places, leaving grotesque bruises festering the immediate areas of your flesh. Though the arm was swollen, it wasn't nearly the severity of when the mission was over. This at least meant that infection wasn't setting in, but it was difficult to determine if the bones were healing properly - for you, anyway. Slenderman was probably more experienced in such an aspect, considering his masterful skills in nearly everything.

Running a thumb over the bruises, your master studied your arm for long, silent moments. An amusing thought of the possibility that Slenderman possessed x-ray vision caused a tight, upward curl on your lips. You couldn't help but imagine him with some sort of essence of the comic hero, Superman - red cape and all.

"You've been thinking of fictional characters lately," Slenderman softly mentioned, hinting that he was still observing the oddities playing within your mind.

"Could you possibly be longing for some glimmer of your human life?" Satisfied with the inspection of your arm, he replaced the splint with a firm tightness.

It hadn't occurred to you that human life was rapping in the back of your mind like a shy valentine at your front door. The brief reminiscence befell here and there, but you never considered it to be of concern. Was your master reading between the lines of something seemingly trivial? "I don't know," your voice cracked, still coated with the thick saliva from your sleep. You cleared your throat before continuing, "I was just making connections. That's all." To this, Slenderman hummed.

"Can I get into some clothes," you sheepishly asked. It was challenging to determine your master's hidden agenda. If guessed wrong, one could easily be punished for it.

Slenderman rose from you bed, his long, skinny limbs reaching out like the branches of a shifting tree. "Yes, of course," he answered. "And no, I hadn't left you nude on purpose. I simply lacked the chance to dress you before you woke." The way he spoke hinted at some sort of unneeded defense to his case as your master turned his back to you and patiently waited.

There was no doubt that you had a tiny suspicion of him keeping you naked for his own mischievous deeds, but you hadn't outright thought about it. Even so, why did Slenderman feel the need to justify the situation? He was your master. If he wanted you naked, there was little you could do about it. Was Slenderman, dare you say, embarrassed? What more surprises would you experience from him? He seemed to be changing; his impression was slowly fading to a new light. The more moments like this that you spent with Slenderman, the more _human_ he seemed. Hell, everyone in the mansion were growing on you, shifting from rabid animals ready to slaughter you to lost souls just trying to get by with what they had left.

You reached your armoire after woozily clambering from the bed. The drowning incident must have had some effect on you; that or it hasn't been long since you took the medication, and that was trying to knock you back out. Either way, a set of sleepwear would be nice. You opened the long doors to reveal the neatly hung and folded garments. Instantly, you stretched out a hand and grabbed the nearest panties, shorts, and baggy shirt. It didn't take long for you to slip them all on, driven by the awkward atmosphere in your room. The shirt was a bit too big, its neck hole hanging to one side and exposing a bare shoulder. At least the important parts were covered.

"Okay, that's better," you sighed and adjusted the linens to better comfort. A deep yawn escaped your mouth with short notice. When you turned around to crawl back into bed, you found Slenderman removing the pillow you had drooled over. "Uh," you tried to say something, not sure if your forming question was stupid, "Thanks? It probably needs to be washed after all that." Granted, you never saw who changed the sheets or cleaned your room. You assumed it was your master this whole time.

Tucking the pillow under an arm, Slenderman whirled around on a heel and said, "Get back to bed. I don't need you collapsing to the floor and risking a concussion." Then, as though he were a brief hallucination from the corner of your eye, he disappeared.

You had no reason to argue such a command. Sleep was definitely on your mind as soon as you yawned. As soon as your body was wrapped in the plush comforter and your head rested upon the spare pillow, you were back to sleep with the flick of a light switch.

Two weeks passed by with general ease. You and your fellow Proxies kept in shape by jogging and performing other less arm-specific exercises at the usual scheduled times. There was a lot of sleeping, otherwise, thanks to the pain medications, but that quickly died away as broken bones and gunshot wounds healed over with the acceleration granted throughout the mansion. To everyone's misfortune, however, food supply was running dangerously low. The Creepypasta residents weren't bringing back much from their hunts. Masky and Hoodie said that it was something the Creepypastas did every so often. They'd slack off on bringing back supplies, Slenderman would scold them, loot count would increase, then rinse and repeat.

For some strange reason, Slenderman wasn't enforcing his rules for the residents as he usually did. He seemed distracted.

Many of the nights within those two weeks, you awoke to find your master standing at the foot of your bed, observing your otherwise sleeping form. He didn't grope or loom over you; he kept his distance, much in the way he stalked his prey. You didn't pry into it, though. He had his reasons. You knew Slenderman wouldn't bring harm to his Proxies unless he no longer needed them.

By the end of the two weeks, all four Proxies were healed enough to perform light duty, but not quite enough for a new mission.

"You'll be tailing behind the residents and looting the homes of their victims," Slenderman bluntly stated. You, Hoodie, Masky, and Toby were called to a surprise debriefing.

Jeff stood next to Slenderman, occasionally taking a drag from his bent cigarette. His permanent smile stretched a little wider, "Want some food? Be my pack mules."

The urge to rolls your eyes and groan out in protest had never been greater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am no longer employed. For the time being, I'll have more free time, but I'll be focusing that on keeping the house clean so I won't be a burden on my parents.  
> Other than that, I'll be job hunting, writing, and doing art commissions on DeviantArt.com.  
> Thank you all for your patience.  
> I expect the chapters to come out more often until I get a new job.


End file.
